The Unlikely Heir
by J-Nynja
Summary: To ensure that only the truly deserving benefit, Carlisle and Edward are plunged into a dangerous hunt for a bounty of treasure. Find out where their battles and boundaries lead them in The Unlikely Heir. Canon. Pre-Twilight. Rated T
1. VISITOR

_**A/N:** _Hiyah lovely peeps. It's probably not a good idea to introduce myself with a long author's note so here goes for all who wondered how Edward Cullen came into such an enormous inheritance. I tried to stay IC as much as possible and loving Carlisle the way I do, I decided to start with his POV. Probably not such a good idea but I trust you'll let me know? Great! Just click the Review this Story/Chapter button and let me have it! I must say this story idea came to me Sunday during Church.

**_Note:_** This chapter was revised with help from **Project Team Beta**.

_Thank you, Jess Meyer, and all the lovely betas at PTB, this was excellently done!_

1. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR**: VISITOR

_**Carlisle**_

I closed my eyes briefly, yearning for a short respite from the horror and gore that overwhelmed the small clinic I had been working at for five whole years now. There were many dead bodies strewn in unnatural postures, lying in all its odd corners. Rotting unattended bodies gave off an obtrusive stench, but I paid it no attention.

Not all souls who came to the clinic were in the process of dying. A few were actually healing. It was frustrating to consider what all of this devastation and sickness would mean for those survivors. I shook the head and sighed. There was nothing that could help these poor people now. Those who had died had moved on while the living struggled to hold on to their last breath. It was all such a helpless sight.

My human colleagues were slowly collapsing with fatigue around me, giving in to the incapability of their bodies to cope with such a situation. They were quite simply tired and giving up. It pained me to their fragile and merely mortal shells persevere with what little strength they could find to keep healing and containing this unforeseen carnage.

My shift had been over hours ago, but my façade would only be destroyed if I didn't feign some symptoms of tiredness as my colleagues did so, I sat in my office and laid my head on the table. If nothing at all, I escaped into the deserted office to ensure that I did not slip from my pretenses any more.

I had been so engrossed with my work, I didn't notice Mrs. Holwick when she walked up to me at the laboratory and pointed out that the dark circles beneath my eyes would only darken more if I didn't get some sleep. I had not realized the hours I spent in the hospital and felt helpless again as I nodded and mumbled an agreement to catch up on needless _sleep_.

Nobody knew that today was my last day in Chicago. Edward and I were heading out west by first light. As it had been three whole days since woke up from his transformation, I was eager to take him far from any temptation of human blood.

I had hunted with him every day since the change was complete, only coming out to the hospital when I was sure he was not very volatile, and only for a few hours at a time, to pack my books and possessions. Even though I felt very reluctant to pull him away from what he knew, it was time to leave.

Quite plain and simple, I could not be sure about his ability to restrain himself and wondered if he could keep hiding in the house all day. Moreover, I was fast approaching a limit of excuses for my physical appearance and soon, it would be my 35th birthday. I was without doubt, that my youthfulness would set people wondering.

I sat stone still on the chair behind the desk that had long since quit its purpose, as there no longer was a need for consultations. All that ever passed through here now was death. I ignored the files piled high and overflowing on the wooden surface because they held no interest for me but for the solid fact that the human body was weak and easily broken. So many death certificates to sign in a day were not the mark of a good doctor . A sigh and a short prayer later, I stood to pack up the few remaining bits of who I was in the brown leather bag I had brought.

I had a new son, _Edward,_for whom I was responsible_._ I tried hard to focus on the upside of my decisions as I reflected on the son, brother and friend with whom I could spend the never ending days of eternity. Whatever he chose to be to me, I was all too willing to accept.

He had been such an attractive human boy, holding himself up with the lithe grace of a lynx I had encountered in Canada three decades ago. His clear emerald eyes were always searching and scrutinizing as though attempting to listen to the true meaning behind the words people spoke. Who would have known it would develop into a gift.

Even through all his pain, he seemed intent and perceptive like his mother, Elizabeth. I had never seen a woman fight quite so fiercely and passionately against death's inevitability. In fact, I had not seen a man do the same either. Edward had lain so still in agony as the accursed virus of the dreadful influenza ate through his body.

It was another story though, while I watched venom spread through the same body slowly and painfully. My only focus had been the screaming young man before me. Every breath he took seemed to bring me hope; an assurance and a justification for the actions I had taken. My desperate wish was that he would accept me and stay to be my friend, my companion, my brother, my son. Somehow though, every scream had reminded me of the gravity of my spontaneity. What life would he choose: my way or the other way? Would he wish to have been left to die or would he accept a new life? Was this a new life at all or were we really damned beyond all salvation?

How selfish I was, my needs were not his cross to bear. A lonely existence was no reason to subject another to this burn. I edged forward in my seat beside him and gripped his hand slightly. Another scream tore through him and I felt a good measure of self-loathing flutter through my heart. What if he was evil and inconsiderate? Impossible! This pure, almost angelic face could bear no evil.

Even in pain, he looked passionate…just as passionate as Elizabeth. Her bronze hair clinging to her forehead and tumbling into her eyes as she worked fervently over her son and whispered encouraging or adoring words into his ears. She was weak, having turned for the worst the night before, and her fever rose steadily, but she shakily drew a wet cloth across he son's forehead. Insisting that she had to attend to him herself. He had smiled a painful smile when she had said to him, "Fight Edward, fight like the solider you are born to be."

He was a solider alright; there was no doubt about that. He had taken his fate as a soldier would even though he was a bit confused at first and not entirely grateful as he slowly realized the vastness of what he had become. His response had been blunt and unwavering when I was still struggling to put coherency to my feeble explanation, my choices, my fears and the reasons behind. He had looked me straight in the eye and said, "It does not excuse this monstrosity."

My heart broke. I was at a loss for words while I turned my actions, decisions, and guilt around in my head. He had retorted carelessly to my thoughts yet again. "I will stay Carlisle. I bear you no grudge. You did what you thought was right and I know you meant me no harm."

I shook my head and sighed again while I finished my task as slowly as a human would. My good-byes were short and my steps quick enough that many would have thought I was beleaguered by the events of the past few days and was ready to be rid of them. As an excuse to stay with Edward, I had faked a sickness that resulted from stress and spent every spare moment of the rest of the week hunting with my son.

He was fast; faster than I and definitely stronger. I had been prepared sufficiently for his strength but utterly surprised by his swift feet. The shock though, was that he responded to my all thoughts. He had winced at the sight of his mother's still, cold form in my mind and smiled warmly as images of the smiling young woman who had been an enigma in her own right, filled my memories. My greatest joy however, was that he was willing to learn and he had thrown no fit as I explained his new life to him.

I was all eager to meet him at home now. How wonderful it was to meet Edward when I paid rapt attention to the stories of his life before the deadly disease struck and before he became a vampire. He would apologize where his memory was fuddled but seemed pleased to recount his human experiences. Most of the best memories were of his mother. His lips would curve into a soft smile while he searched the dim reserves through and then almost as suddenly, he'd grimace with his loss. When he realized my pleasure at the good stories, he struggled even more to remember. He was a perfect gentleman.

By now, we both realized he could read minds and he had offered a wealth of knowledge as we both tried to make sense of this gift. I had been very curious to see if it only worked on others vampires like me but the poor boy had screamed in agony when the market down the street from our home had opened and the day begun. Edward doubled over and fell to his knees. He clasped his hands over his ears while I stood by and watched helplessly.

I would do anything for my son. I'd take his pain, if I could share it, and make my own. He was just too young to be in such a dire condition and I ached for him. My cold, un-beating heart throbbed for him. My poor boy with the gift he called a curse. Was there no way to find just one good thing about whom he had become? _Lord! Please, give him rest and calm his troubled head_.

I walked quickly towards the little wood cottage I called home at the edge of the sprawling forest that marked the boundary between this small marsh town and the wild. Immediately I turned the last corner, I caught the scent of pinewood, sweat, blood and tobacco. Panic seized me and my thoughts called out to Edward instantly. _If you are still in the house, hold your breath and leave through the back door as quickly as you can. Head for the forest, I'll come find you!_

I took even faster steps, moving quickly in a blur till I got to the edge of my cottage. A fine Cadillac Town Borough had been parked a short distance from the fence and a well dressed gentleman in fine clothes stood not far from it. I looked around one more time, quickly watching for Edward or any other signs of danger before I called out as softly as I could.

"Who goes there?"

A heartbeat quickened and a startled 'Oh!' escaped the man who leaned carefully on the wooden fence in front of the cottage. He looked up quickly and smiled.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen? It is nice to meet you finally."

I nodded quickly and shook his leather encased hands. "May I help you?" I asked while looking around once again for the newborn that hid in my house. I sniffed carefully and smiled at the well dressed man.

Edward's scent clung faintly to the still cold air. _I hope he's not still there. I hope he's gone hunting._I had encouraged him last night to try hunting on his own. The forest just behind had plenty wildlife and the big carnivores were never too far to find. He had only murmured an assent and looked up bewildered when I had expressed my faith in his first hunt. _Please God, let him be miles away from here,_I prayed.

The cottage seemed still and dark and my sharp roving eyes caught no sight of my newborn and extremely dangerous son. I panicked even more now, as I was uncertain where he was and how he would react to the human. With a sigh and another prayer for goodwill, I turned and feigned a smile for the unassuming man who stood before the greatest danger he could ever encounter.

I would try to stop him if he attacked but I did not have the strength to fight him off. He was stronger and it would be quick for both of us. My breath hitched, and I swallowed a gulp of air. Hands trembling now in fear, I shoved them deep into the pockets on my jacket while the suddenly tense air rode high with my fright. My only thoughts were for the welfare and sanity of my son and the risk of exposure. _Why, why did he come here and on the last day after we had been so careful?_

"I have come to see you Dr. Cullen. It is a matter of urgency." He looked around furtively and asked, "May I come in?"

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**Playlist**

Manafest – Don't Turn Away ft. Justin Humes (Glory CD)

Oh! Cliffy huh? Pretty tell, what do you suppose will happen now? Well, here goes the first chapter of my very first fanfic.

Review, review, review! I can't wait!


	2. LETTER

**THE UNLIKELY HEIR: **LETTER

I hung my coat on the peg just behind the door and headed on to the small living room where I had spent most of my recent nights talking with Edward. I quickly lit the lantern on the lamp stand in the center of the cold room and headed over to the hearth to start a fire. The flames licked on and raged like the burning desire within me to turn and scream. I fought back treacherous instincts, willed in all my control and rose slowly, turning towards the adjoining kitchen. I eyed the still full jar of tea leaves I kept on the top shelf for such incidents and filled the kettle with water from the pitcher. Setting it over the still cold stove, I turned a cautiously guarded gaze to the solemn Mr. William Crest.

"Would you like some tea?" _Say No! I don't think I can keep that charade going long enough_.

He shook his head vigorously much to my pleasure and mumbled a barely audible decline. Suddenly, he heaved out of the seat he had been occupying in the now warm living room and walked a few paces to bend a little by the fire. His scent rose while he warmed his bare hands and I watched mesmerized by awe, irritation and some impatience at Mr. Crest's ease. Had this man no sense of self preservation at all? This was totally annoying. I was under no obligation to entertain a stranger and he had no right to walk temptation into my home! I should have made up a polite excuse and sent him on his way.

He slowly straightened and walked back to reclaim his previous place in the sofa close to the door then, took plenty time removing his hat and gloves before he turned back to look me over. "Kindly Doctor, please sit with me?" he requested, waving to the settee next to him. _Unbelievable! How perfect my human pretense must be to encourage such ease._

I walked quickly to take the space next to his. William Crest was an aged man. He looked like he must have seen at least sixty years and some already. Reddish streaked brown hair thinned above his head with his hands heavily veined and weak looking. Deeply entrenched wrinkles encased the languid eyes partially hidden behind the simple copper rimmed glasses which perched on the bridge of his nose.

He reached into the oddly flat pouch that he had laid on the table at the side and pulled out a fairly large package. Thrusting it my way, he mumbled a faint "For you" and firmly handed it to me.

"The missus, Mrs. Elizabeth, wanted you to have this Doctor," he said.

"Who?" I asked, thrown off momentarily. All thoughts were trained on the cream colored paper in my hands. What could this be? Which Mrs. Elizabeth wanted me to have this? Elizabeth Masen?

"The missus instructed so" he whispered as he calmly tapped the envelope in my hands and looked up at me hopefully. A wide grin broke over his creased face when I shook my head in puzzlement. _Whatever is he talking about?_ I was confused. I turned the package over and over as though it held the answers to all the mystery that this man seemed to exude. The elegant words daintily penned across the front spelled my name boldly but hardly any other parts of the paper seemed tarnished or marked except for the fingerprints of its previous bearers.

"She said it was of the utmost importance that it be given you and in with no other's knowledge," he continued. "She made me swear by all that was holy to make sure you received this even if in my hour of death. You see, it contains such important epistles that even the good master Masen never saw."

I looked up and enquired, "What is it?"

He looked a little flustered and quickly hid his aged face. He shrugged lightly at first and fidgeted with his gloves. "I am not privy good sir; I am unlearned in written words."

Oh! A letter was of no use to a person who could not read. But… he looked so well-read. Hah! I was not the only one putting up appearances then. I smiled slightly in mock humor at the similarity and quickly shook my head to clear away the triviality. It was of no consequence who was hiding what and who was better at his game. My thoughts directly latched on to the bronze haired beauty who had died just a few days before and whose son was somewhere either too far to witness this exchange – which would have ended long ago had he been here and which admittedly was still a possibility – or was very good with controlling his most insistent impulses and had another talent for invisibility.

Her vivacious green eyes marked my memories indelibly. They had looked so piercing, so accusing even when she had begged for what had seemed like the immortality of her son. What more did she require now? Will she never seize to astonish me? She seemed so set on a course; her wishes still adhered to in her pursuits. Exactly what these pursuits were eluded me. I was never one for mystery. These situations never happened before and I was at a loss as to how to deal with this. Why had this come now?

Old – but many decades too young - Mr. Crest stared intently at the fiery embers burning wildly now in the fireplace seeming to recall memories of 'my' son's mother.

"Elizabeth was a very delightful child. She is such a loss to all who knew her. Her vibrancy… lost to the dust of the earth. Is there any way for us to live forever?" he smiled at me and I returned one very shaky twist of my mouth at him. "She would do anything for her family. Selfless and ever so courageous, Elizabeth insisted on love. When she met the dashing Edward Masen, she had made up her mind long before he first called on her that he was who she was meant to marry. Ever so sure, she was never browbeaten into the quiet roles most women assumed. She was such a force to reckon. What she wanted, she got."

I raised one eyebrow at him. _Tell me about it. _He paused a while and continued. "It's no wonder she found who to entrust her treasures to before she passed on."

"Why me" I asked, ever so slightly perturbed now.

"I am not entirely sure. I do suppose it may be because you are a noble and wise man. I saw many times before, how she spoke of your devotion to God and to the healing of the sick. I suppose she thought you would have better use for it eventually," he signaled at the piece clutched carefully in my hands and turned back to gaze into the fire. "… seeing, as it were, that the terrible disease done wiped out all of her bloodlines."

I shook my head again and fingered the dainty package. Her bloodlines were wiped out? True. In place of blood, venom flowed and was strengthened by the life-force of her son. Edward Masen no longer existed; who he was now was Edward Cullen.

I had taken Edward to their graves just the other night after the modest service Reverend Billy Boderick held. Pain crossed his otherwise serene features as he looked down into the dirt that held his parent's remains then, a few minutes later, only a ghost of what had been held in his bright ruby red eyes. His smile had been purposeful, confident and peaceful when he strode to join me at the edge of the quaint cemetery. It had to be my confirmation – a sign that he accepted who he had become.

"Forgive me Doctor, but I cannot stay further," the old man next to me stated unexpectedly. "I have been away too long from my family and they must be anxious by now."

I hurriedly spoke an understanding and made to lead the way to the door, eager to be rid of him. He turned to stare into the furious flames once again. His ancient eyes seemed unfocused for a long moment and his hands shook somewhat. His head snapped up abruptly and his blue eyes held my brown gold eyes in a long, searching gaze. He nodded once and begun to gather his belongings.

I watched as he pulled on his gloves, his hat and quickly stood up to pull off his fur cloak from the peg where it hung near mine. I bid him farewell at the door and carefully explained my expected absence at the hospital blaming the speed of my decision on the urgent need to visit my own family and help with a difficult situation. Well, it was no lie. The difficult situation was expected disclosure if we stayed any longer and my family was Edward.

The little cottage was flooded in plenty light though I needed none at all to satisfy my curiosity with what was enclosed in the envelope. I sat before the paper monster several minutes while I pondered my limited options. _Open it. Do not open it._ I carefully lifted the mystery packet, shook lightly and listened closely. Paper slid across paper. I shook again to make sure I had heard right. Then, I lifted the delicate sachet up against the light of the lantern and peered through. I squinted at it intently, trying unsuccessfully to make meaning of the blobs of ink words. I pursed my lips hard and peered through once more. The overlapping words of the folded paper left the letter unreadable. _What is super vision if it cannot see through a few sheets of paper?_

I tossed the paper case back unto the table and slumped back into the stuffed settee. How much had Elizabeth Masen known? What had she taken to her grave? A wave of dread filled me. How much had anybody else seen at all? I had been so careful – or so I thought. Had I said something at the hospital? Was that when I slipped, had she seen the vampire in me then? Denial held no solutions. Yet, was it better to know now what she kept secret and cause Edward unnecessary torture all through tomorrow's journey or wait until we had settled?

Finding no proper answers, I strode into the room where we kept our luggage. I lifted the lid of my trunk and placed the envelope carefully beneath a stack of my clothes. I looked over at Edward's baggage. Last night when we stole into his room, I realized just how much of his humanity he was leaving behind… his music, friends, dreams, education and now, his home. Edward selected to travel light and packed a case of his clothes and the most basic necessities to avoid prying eyes. How thoughtful and considerate. I resolved to give him back all that he had given up. A doctor's wages could provide for a young man, could it not? Yes, I was sure it would be no trouble at all. After all, I had quite a large sum of money saved up. I would do what I could to give back a measure of happiness to this good friend I found.

Velvet darkness engulfed the room, cloaking all mystery and myth. How much further was the dawn now I thought? Gold Coast, Chicago had been my haven… it was fast becoming a trap. I secured my luggage and launched out the back door running fast and hard through the flaming fall trees in search of my son.

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**Please don't kill me, I really don't know what the letter says too. Really!**

_Inspiration:_

_Jars of Clay, Delirious_

_Review, review, review!_

_Just learning to use the document manager. Still need a beta! _


	3. ADVENTURE

_A/N: This was so much harder to write than I had thought at first. I wrote in Edward's view first and tried it in Elizabeth Masen's view and even in the third person format. Finally, it came out better through Carlisle's eyes so here goes chapter 3…_

**THE UNLIKELY HEIR**: ADVENTURE

Dawn broke. Letting in streams of blue light; a promise of a bright, sunny day. We packed the rest of my books in the back of the Ford and set out quickly unto the dust roads that led away from Illinois into Wisconsin. The abrupt change of destination had happened just an hour before. Now, we were headed for a place called Ashland, in search of a Sir George Brooks.

To say Elizabeth Masen's letter had been a plea was an understatement. It was a command. A directive no one could defy. Though it set my mind at ease about her knowledge regarding my true nature, it nonetheless, did nothing to abate the mystery that swelled. She persuaded me to take up the task. '… To ensure that, only the truly deserving benefit…' she had said. _Who was the 'truly deserving' when your vampire doctor was in charge?_ For a while, I pitied her. Whatever this mystery was, it ought to have kept her looking over her shoulders constantly. Even though that pretty much summed up a vampire's reality in the human world, it was no way to live at all.

All throughout the journey, Edward had been especially silent. He explained after my futile attempts at conversation failed, that he was thinking about last night.

Last night. I had found him sitting on the bank of the little pool in the depths of the thick forest. He had been entirely engrossed as he studied the litter of baby cats tucked behind a fallen tree trunk and almost obscured in the nest of grass just a few feet away. The playful, overactive cubs tackled one another and nipped and wrestled. I was totally spellbound by their banter, choking on a threatening spurt of laughter as one particularly enthusiastic cat overturned its sibling, laying it on its back while it took great care in licking up its underside. That must tickle I thought. The defeated cat had lain still fleetingly but soon regained its strength and struggled with the baby cougar atop it. He pawed at his rival till he could hurl himself up again, knocking the one above him off and striding towards the other two, who appeared intent on pulling each other's tails off. The first victor persisted and managed to tease his brother into a chase. They run a few meters away from us and then suddenly scampered towards us. Both crashed to a halt midway when two pairs of frozen yellow gold eyes widened in consideration of Edward and I. When they sufficiently noted the inherent danger ahead, both cougars whirled in a dizzying spin and sprinted off into the blackened depths of the forest.

Well, that was unavoidable. Most creatures sensed their doom when we were close. It was just the dynamics of nature.

Edward snorted in revulsion, "and that excuses what we are, monsters?"

His face was twisted in a grimace and his lips pressed hard together in a tight line as I noted his demeanor for the first time that night. His angel face was dark and brooding with thorough disgust when he lightly fingered the torn, bloodied shirt he wore. He paused his task quite unexpectedly and looked down into his upturned hands, lifting them carefully to his nose, he breathed slightly. Edward frowned briefly before turning to gaze again at the deserted mountain lion den in front. The depth of self loathing that marred his otherwise handsome face was staggering and I winced under its sheer intensity. I found, while I enjoyed the sight of the playful cubs, that he had seen no pleasure in the animals. What could have brought this on? I thought he had accepted the workings of our nature, even though still begrudging, but obviously, I was wrong.

"Yes, you are," He threw back.

Something shattered in my chest – the pieces of my frozen heart fell with the peace, thrill and ease I felt while we watched the display of cougars – and the guilt rose again. My decisions had been so selfish, I mused. How bad was it – this life – that he would choose death to a chance to live again?

He shrugged lightly, cocking his head from side to side; he leaned forward to evaluate himself in the still clear pool and muttered faintly "Whoever feels proud with himself for killing a baby's mother, Carlisle? Had I known it had babies, I would have hunted some other." He rose nimbly and spun around to walk away.

I looked up as realization dawned on me. He had killed their mother and was feeling guilty for it. I understood immediately and tried to explain how the call of delicious blood rendered all proper thought void in the heat of the hunt. He shook his head slowly and slumped back into the lush, green ground at his feet.

"I didn't know she had young ones. I was so drawn to her scent; I did not even think for a moment what I could be doing to her family." He looked so defeated while he buried his head in his hands. His breaths shallow and his face etched in pain. I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed a bit when he didn't shrug it off.

"Do you think it would have been different if a human hunter had come across that lion?" I asked.

"What do you mean? I just killed a poor, helpless mother and exposed its young to all sorts of dangers and you think that is ok?" his tone was contemptuous.

"Certainly not Edward, but you didn't kill the animal for a senseless purpose like its fur as humans would. You were simply not aware it had babies. It's not as though you could have done anything about it."

"That certainly makes me feel so much better," he returned sarcastically.

I struggled with a proper explanation and came up short. He kept looking at me pensively, a short while later, he turned to look away into the silent, still forest.

"It is not much better to be likened to a disease either Carlisle, but I think I understand what you mean. I am not the only predator here."

I smiled at him and he actually returned one of his own. _What a beautiful face! You should smile some more, you know._ He rolled his eyes at me, fought a losing battle with another smile and leapt to his feet. He eagerly announced it was time to go home. The mention of home from my son, was exciting and happiness overflowed into the schoolboy grin that cut across my face.

"Let's!" I called out to the rapidly disappearing figure and broke out into a run of my own. When I finally caught up with him at home, he wore a worried frown and was looking around keenly. I looked around too, trying to figure out the source of his distress. I drew in a deep breath and caught the faint scent of William Crest still lingering in the warm confines of the house. I should have opened the windows to let it out, I thought.

My son looked up, confused. "That's human?" he asked incredulously.

_Yes._

"You are able to stand that every day and still keep your sanity?"

_Well, they have young, defenseless babies too. _"I have had two centuries to practice. It gets easier with time," I explained.

He was still for a second while he pondered my answer. "But it's not without effort," he said simply and walked into the next room to take a bath.

_No. it was not without effort. _

It was an effort not to think about the letter that lay within my belongings. And an even greater effort to calm the waging war inside me. One side encouraged me to find out the contents and do any damage control I could before the people of Chicago were scarred for life. The other side, the darker side, argued. _It's of no use. Whatever she wanted died with her. You are not obliged to do her every bidding. Isn't giving her son immortality enough?_ So, the old vacillation plagued relentlessly yet again. _Open it, don't open it._ Somewhere through all this, another possibility lurked in a muted voice. In the end, it was the barely audible voice that won. _It doesn't have to be doom. Maybe, she brings good news._ I clung to that hope when I pulled the envelope from its place and tore off the lid.

I quickly pulled the neatly folded paper out before my resolve wavered again and smoothed it out.

_Dearest Dr. Cullen,_

_It is unlikely that I would suffer any other fate but the one that has befallen my dearest husband and our entire family. If this is the case, then Mr. Crest has heard about my demise and taken a great risk to find you and deliver this to you personally._

_It is important that you understand the full significance of this matter and as much as possible, respond with the necessary fervor. My plea to you is to accept my charge and do what is necessary accordingly, to ensure that, only the truly deserving benefit from this endeavor. _

_I beseech you to seek out Sir George Brooks of Ashland, in the State of Wisconsin, to help you acquire the correspondence I kept with Mr. Anthony Masen. On arrival, this letter, written in my hand, would be all the proof he needs to grant you access to these important files._

_I trust, Dr. Cullen, that your true selflessness and compassion for the needy will lead you to better administer this great task that I commend you with. Your unwavering devotion to God also leads me to believe, I will only find peace if you, and you alone were responsible for this lot._

_I must reiterate in the strictest sense, that this must be kept as confidential as much as possible. It is imperative as many seek the same treasures and would employ any means possible to rid its rightful owner off it._

_I am the most confident that you will seek one as discerning as yourself to pass this duty to when the time comes for us to meet again. However, you remain young and wise now and resistant to the plague that claims my beloved family. You still have many years before you to properly advance a worthy cause. _

_Good providence to you, Dr. Cullen. May your faith be strengthened daily and your wisdom be increased. _

_Sincerely,_

_Elizabeth Masen_

My head rose from the letter with a sigh. Was it relief? She had not known after all, what I was. Her only reason for entrusting this responsibility with me was my selflessness and compassion? Who is Anthony Masen anyway?

Curiosity flared again as I considered her words. She had called this mystery a treasure which others were willing to kill for. I almost laughed at the prospects of assassins seeking my life. What exactly would they kill me with? None of their fragile contraptions could even dent my skin much less end my life.

I smile distractedly as scenes of hapless people running round street corners and wielding guns danced in my head. Even at my slowest, they would have such a hard time catching up. I watched as Edward and I laughed at their feeble attempts.

Edward! I was pulled out of my reverie straight away. No, I couldn't put him through that. The rational thing to do was live in a remote place, away from humans, until his newborn year was over. Some place with lots of wild animals. I quickly revised my plans and reverted to the original arrangement.

"I am pretty sure Ashland is not a big city."

_Oh! How long had he been standing there? _ I was startled as the person in question stood propped against my door jamb with an amused smile.

"A while," he said nonchalantly. "Have you been to Wisconsin?" he asked, changing the subject.

_No_, _I_ _know it is bordered on the east by Lake Michigan. Maybe, there would be abundance of food in a place close to the Lake._

"Then Ashland, Wisconsin it is then," Edward stated. A crooked smiled playing on the edges of his lips and mischief dancing in his eyes.

I was ecstatic. It had been too long since I had been on any kind of adventure.

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Let the games begin!

Inspiration: Switchfoot – Innocence Again

Your reviews are like blood to a thirsty vampire!

Review, Review, Review!!!


	4. CENSURE

**A/N: **_Sorry for the late update of this chapter. I was mostly knocked out cold under a flood of angry drugs and angry nurses who just won't let me have the little time I craved with my laptop. Something about getting some rest? Yeah, right!_

**THE UNLIKELY HEIR**: CENSURE

Souls. What kind of soul could a vampire have? Poor Carlisle was vainly pursuing a soulless hope. I laughed even louder now that our argument was over and he was headed to the church down the street. My father had pulled surprise after surprise on me since the first day I awoke from hell's fires with a hellish thirst and the devil's blood red eyes. That vampires, immortal blood drinkers, instinctual predators, possibly the most dangerous of all the undead monsters who thronged the unknowing world had a heaven was the most laughable so far. Maybe, the humans had a distorted view about the true creatures that were neither myth nor fantasy but the delusions of such a powerful three hundred year old mind was another matter altogether.

Why ever would one vampire work so hard to deny what he was, was beyond me. There was nothing in the human world that held such a lure for me to deny my very nature. There was nothing human about this cold, rock hard body – and as if seeing was not believing – there definitely was nothing human about the dull but ever present thirst that seemed to fill every thought and which could only be satiated with – yes, human blood. Soul indeed!

I lifted out of my newly acquired couch and turned to the piano on the far side of my room. As I sat behind the seemingly unordered contrasts of black and white keys, my thoughts went back to the man who in more ways than I expected, was a father to me. In this regard, even the humans must be seriously lacking. Aside from the love in his thoughts and words, his enthusiasm to nourish any hobby that pleased me was very humbling.

The arrival of the grand piano had been such a pleasant surprise when the four sweaty humans delivered it to our doorstep. One look at the instrument had totally swayed my thoughts from the unassuming temptation that had ventured too close to the barely–year old vampire. Even the humans had been caught up in my excitement and were considering waiting just a while longer to hear me play. Luckily, and for them mostly, one had to check on his wife back at home with a newborn baby. The other three keenly agreed to join him and quickly sped off in anticipation of beer at the popular bar afterwards and an excuse to avoid anymore work.

Immediately they had rounded the corner, I lifted the piano effortlessly into the living room and started to tune and play. Carlisle had been so pleased with my reaction and obvious oblivion to his presence when he sunk into the sofa by the fireplace to listen. When I suddenly looked up and said thanks, he jumped slightly and smiled tentatively at his own daze. That must be the happiest day of my life.

Nowadays, this was one of the few places where I found any peace at all from the great many thoughts that besieged me. Today, my mind was fixed solely on vampire souls. Such an absurd implication it was. Father had patiently explained that since we were capable of rational thought, we had to have a soul to guide our choices in good and evil. Ha! Rational indeed!

My hands dashed over the familiar keys in a daze, bringing old tunes that were a very essential composition of who I was back to my unrelenting worries and instantly claiming all of my focus. The melody soothed and burned, wounded and healed, saddened and thrilled and in the very rare moments there were, caressed like a mother's touch, a lover's kiss or my father's faith-filled smile.

Settling in Ashland was not a bad decision at all. It had taken just a couple of days to find this beautiful house near the Chequamegon bay, one trip to the market to furnish it to human satisfaction and barely a day after, to find the long trail behind the that led to the lovely isolated spot with the little waterfall just north of the little town. This had become my favorite hangout until the piano had come.

While I had patiently and impatiently waited for the stubborn burn in my throat to subside – which, Carlisle had assured me, would get easier to control after a year at least – he had granted me freedom to invade the accumulation of books that lined his room. That very first day, it had been difficult to choose where to start from. The ancient volumes held such a wealth of interesting and uncommon facts. It was so easy to immerse myself totally in the intriguing and indistinct way in which psychology explained the 'complexities' of the meager human brain. Besides, it was always a good opener to any conversation with Carlisle. Since every topic seemed to have a memory or two attached, it got even more interesting when he determinedly perused three hundred years of unforgotten memories to lift out the tales he sought. Always interesting and always mesmerizing. Moreover, the man loved to tell stories and what sort of son was I if I couldn't accommodate an old man's pleasures.

However, today, none of my pastimes held my interest long enough. My thoughts were on the soothing cascade of the icy cold water of the waterfall while I stood beneath it, the soft lush grass beneath my bare back while I lolled and traced the patterns of freedom the birds made above and the utter peace it was sure to bring me.

I set out slowly, trying to absorb the sweet smells and beautiful shades of color that lined the unremarkable path. Every day brought its own peculiar changes. Sometimes, the smells were more earthy or pungent with a particular aroma and then at other times, the forest lay absolutely still – as though guarding her secrets. Today was predominantly intriguing. The usual tang seemed just that bit more intense and the silence whispered unfamiliar tales. I tensed in the moment the wind hurled its force at me and I heard the shrill voice of pain that tore through.

My eyes searched frantically, all wits focused on the distress call. I moved quickly, my feet barely touching the ground, as I run towards the cry of turmoil – to save or to finish an improperly done job? I had no idea. Moments later, I came upon an anguished young woman in the clearing at the bank of the river just a few miles from the waterfall. I immediately backtracked into the shadows and held my breath. She could be hurt and bleeding. Her face was swollen and her features twisted in pain. She lay still but her lips moved briefly to let out another ear shattering cry for help. Her thoughts were filled with pain, pleading and betrayal.

I stood disbelieving at her torturer. He couldn't be any older than I and definitely not stronger as he came striding into the little clearing at neck breaking speed, screeching to a crashing stop at her prone side. His thoughts were smug but chaotic by the success he had achieved today – filled with glee like he had just received the best praise. It was childlike at best and hard to understand. Is this how all evil minds worked? Clearly, this man had no good intentions for the young woman at his feet.

His eyes blazed with delight at the vulnerable state of the woman and his lips stretched over his stained teeth in an evil smile as he bent over her and ripped the bare muslin covering from her now trembling form. Dread filled me and coiled taut in the pit of my belly. Suddenly, he tore her legs apart and knelt between.

Fury invaded all rational thought. My muscles bunched and my back tensed. I instinctively bent into a half crouch and felt my mouth pool with venom in anticipation of a fresh kill. I was the ultimate hunter, faster and stronger than the mortal man that leaned over the defenseless woman. It would be quick. I was a lot more rational than the animal so I'd make it quick. Too sudden for the embodiment of evil and his prey to discern how it happened – the end of the torture for her and a sudden welcome to hell for him. Yes, that was the best course to thread, I argued with myself. I was exactly what the world needs – a vampire liberator.

Unexpectedly, my concentration was broken by running feet and desperate minds.

_Please Lord, not again!_

_I should have been watching closer._

_When did he leave the picnic?_

_Why did Henry have to be such an animal?_

"Quick, fetch Doctor Cullen, William!" the lean man ahead of the group of five snarled at the boy running several steps behind as he wrestled the beast to the ground. The party quickly seized their brother, making short work of knocking him unconscious and carrying him away, before turning to evaluate the broken woman child.

She was unable to walk and was shaking with tears of embarrassment and shame when the leader of the group of 'saviors' lifted her into his arms and started towards the house that was only partially concealed by the row of trees which had to be the boundary of the seemingly enormous estate beyond. I slowly straightened out of my hunter's stance and stared in terror at how close I had come to killing the human boy and how close I was to the center of town. My father's work was just across the street and my waterfall was still miles away on the west. I quickly turned on my heel and run from the place I had been banned from until I was rational enough to make decisions that did not expose us. Curse this half, eternally damned life! There was nothing more I wanted now than to follow those people to see my father. Carlisle would fix the terrible wrong wrought out today, I was sure of it – but if the fiend went unpunished, I'll find another day and another way to bring him his due.

Right now though, there was nothing to gain in risking innocent lives and causing mayhem. I gulped down the venom in my mouth and set out once again to find my hiding place.

As night fell, I waited eagerly at the door for my father. Even after my afternoon of 'peace' and a quick hunting trip to placate my earlier loss, I was still unsettled when I got back home. I was distracted and irritated. What could be keeping him so late? He should have been home hours ago, I mused. Then, I started to pace a path in the floor of my room. When that wouldn't help, I played on my piano and then paced again. Somewhere in the middle of one of the loudest notes of the hallelujah chorus, I heard his mental voice as he approached the secluded house halfway buried in the dark woods.

_That is lovely!_

Well, it was unintentional but my pleasure all the same. I stroked on to the final note as he came to stand in the middle of my room.

"Beautiful," he said, pleasure and awe beaming from his face. There was something about Carlisle's praise that had me blushing bloodlessly. I tried for a poker face and failed miserably under the bout of his flattering thoughts. When I was sure I could raise my face again without worry, he gestured to me to follow him out to the street.

"How was your day?" I asked casually as we headed out the door at human pace.

"Not too good," he muttered and then more firmly added, "A troubled boy and his fiancé were brought in. They had been swimming in the creek near his home when the playing and teasing suddenly got a bit too much for him."

Carlisle frowned a little bit as he played back the boy's mother's anguish. _It has never gotten this bad before, otherwise we would never have left them both unattended in the beginning..._ Henry needed some mental help was all? Sometimes, he judged situations wrongly but it had never got to the extent where he actually hurt his fiancée before. This was a first and a worry more for the young man who came to and realized the damaged his momentary lapse had caused. Even though the badly bruised victim had reiterated her sincere forgiveness, he would heed no one who tried to soothe his remorse and insisted it was time to get committed to an institution.

Suddenly, Carlisle looked exhaustively at my face. _Are you alright Edward?_ I nodded quickly and wiped the evident chagrin. His lit up and looked out the front door again.

_Then, let's go. I got you a surprise!_

I searched his mind anxiously for a clue, a giveaway. What had he got me this time? I shuffled through the door – somehow very reluctant. Whatever it was, I wasn't worth it. I had very nearly disappointed him today. In actual fact, I had. To think that I had almost done the one thing that was guaranteed to put me out of sorts with this kind man depressed me greatly. He did all he could to keep me happy and entertained while I roamed the forest plotting "justified murders." How right would it be for Henry if I had killed him today? What benefit would it have been for us both – me, with my ruby red eyes and disappointed father, him with his denied chance for new life and devastated family? Just a sick, remorseful boy!

Somehow though, the shiny black Cadillac roadster parked in the curb at the edge of the forgotten street held just the right amount of temptation to thrill me. Maybe, even more than the piano had because this time, when I said thanks, Carlisle jumped up and barked out laughing loudly... his face, a glorious sight to behold. The moment of truth held…

I would do all I could to prevent my father's censure.

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Collide – Skillet (Collide)

Resurrect Me – Jon Foreman (Spring and Summer Disc 2)

Learning to Breathe – Switchfoot ( A Walk to Remember Soundtrack)

_A/N: Ok, this is one deep Edward. Since I am writing CANON, I'd like to explain a few things. I do not think Edward became the mature man we know in Twilight in just a year. I think it is a possibility though not entirely a reality._

_Here he struggles childishly – if you may, with his first good or bad situation. Only there seems to be so many shades of gray. I tried for a situation like Bella's 18th birthday incident to better understand him and yes, it all has a bearing on the story!_

_Next chapter, we return to Carlisle's POV. I think I will not be returning to Edward anytime soon. But if you like, I like too!!!_

So here goes my sincerest plea once more... **REVIEW!!!**


	5. FIRE!

_A/N: For all the crazy nurses… I told you my drug is a review! See how better I'm getting already?_

_There really are very few changes to this chapter and the intentions remain the same. _

_Edited with help from La __**beta**__ extraordinaire, Slovesemmett: May 30, 2009_

5.**THE UNLIKELY HEIR**: FIRE!

_**Carlisle**_

For me, there were so many blessings to count and not nearly enough time in all eternity to name them. A look back at my hopes during these past centuries and my extremely good fortunes for the very latter couple of years were solid evidence, again, that a powerful Deity watched over me. Or rather, God watched over us.

My son and I had developed our relationship over the past year, from an awkward pair to a well-settled family. Now, it was routine that I would leave early every morning for the hospital while Edward wandered around the house or sought other sorts of distractions to fill his days. Mostly, he read my books or explored the forest nearby.

The nights though, were never the same, and always filled with humor and conversation or thought provoking debates and arguments. We talked about everything from philosophy to religion and on some rare occasions, we even spoke about medicine.

However, as Edward's newborn year neared its close, he craved a change in his usual environment. He hunted less now and was in good control of his thirst, which convinced me even more, that he was prepared to face the human world.

This was why my joy was boundless as I watched my young son dash over to the new automobile and gently stroke its angular edges. He seemed much too delighted to notice anything other than the shiny black metal before him and I watched with equal pleasure as more of his character slowly unraveled before me.

In Edward's infectious and flagrant excitement, a new presence formed around us: an assurance of some sort about the progression of our relationship. As he pranced around the Cadillac, I knew, that every bit of the past year's trials and the temptations that accompanied them were wiped away in the moment.

Now, he could look forward to spending more time outside the house and the forest. Maybe now, we could even perfect our human façade as a family. He would be able to go wherever he chose and drive the automobile he always dreamed of. Hopefully, relishing in his newfound freedom would help him reconsider his entrenched notions about his new nature.

This car was as much my gift to him for his patience and faith in me as it was also a sign of my faith in him. _You'll be just fine Edward,_ I mentioned in my thoughts. He neither acknowledged my thoughts nor assurances they contained. I shook my head slowly and climbed into the front seat at his gesturing.

"Thank you Carlisle," he said.

_I'm glad you like it._

"It brings me joy, just like the piano."

It was a pleasure to know even though this was not a gift like the piano had been by any means.

It had not been quite as complicated as I thought it would to be to surprise him. Staying my thoughts on Henry was merely a normal reaction for me; I was almost always worried about my patients. I drove slowly to reduce the noise the vehicle made even though I was quite sure Edward would notice the sound and hear my thoughts before I could park it in the curb.

He had been playing the hallelujah chorus on the piano when I arrived and as its final strains wafted to me and I smiled. The beautiful sound had reminded me of the Basilicas in Rome with their high ceilings, stained glass windows and symphonic orchestras, further diverting my attention from the shiny new automobile.

Now, as he drove us through the deserted streets, I leaned my head back and thought about those difficult days when we struggled together for reason. Every memory seemed a blurry image as they merged into one dark night. It was all over now and that dark night had finally given way to daylight.

I focused on a memory that cemented Edward's new freedom. I had my confirmation of a bright sun when the boys at the piano shop conveyed the music instrument to our home. The young vampire had been so overjoyed to see the grand piano that he had not realized how completely he kept his thirst under control while the four human men made their delivery. He didn't even turn once to acknowledge the sweaty individuals or to look their way when they received the large tip I handed them and made their innocent escape.

Edward's nostrils flared slightly and a frown settled over his face briefly as the quartet lingered on. I guessed his irritation instantly and lifted a telling brow at one of the delivery boys, the red haired boy with the childish face, reminding him silently of his recent duties as a family man. He caught on remarkably and mumbled his thanks and excuses in one hurried sentence and was on his way back home.

It was a great relief to find Edward busying himself with tuning and testing as I was not nearly sure what to say to him when we were alone. A little while later, I settled into the deep daze, relaxing with the soothing tune of Beethoven and let my thoughts drift back to the strategies I had adopted to make certain folks heard of the arrival of my nephew from Chicago. I had not been entirely sure then, how safe it would be to introduce him to the human world and hence, the test.

I felt like a cad for endangering the young men at all. It was reckless and inexcusable to test my faith in my son at their expense. That I was nearly willing to sacrifice human life to test Edward's endurance was unforgivable. But, as I had thought he would, he did, and passed with flying colors. In fact, that I even thought him weak was an insult in itself. But the desire to find how controlled he had become was overwhelming. I knew I must find a way to test him.

I had been walking home from the hospital when my eyes caught on the shiny black piano. Immediately, my mind recalled the magnificent piece I had seen on the eve of our departure from Chicago in the Masen's home. Though not nearly as beautiful as the one left behind, the piano shone brightly and summoned me to purchase it from the dusty store. I heeded the call and walked through the tinkling door.

A minute later, a portly woman in plain clothes and a stained apron approached me.

"How can… can I… help you?" she stammered, her heartbeat picking up.

I nodded at the instrument and asked its price. The flustered woman quickly mumbled a number but amended with an offer.

"For you, good Doctor, I'll sell it for $20 less."

_Interesting!_ I raised a brow and looked at her quizzically. She rushed on to answer my obvious inquiry.

"Sir, as thanks for saving my son's life," she said. She quickly wiped her hands over her apron and turned to pick a rag; scurrying to the instrument to wipe away the thin film of dust on its surface. Before I could ask, she answered again as though she, like my son, could read my thoughts.

"Harry was in the cursed war for six months before a bomb shattered his right leg. When he was brought back home, he seldom slept from the nightmares and screamed constantly from the pain. It was terrible." She shook her head while she finished her task and turned to look dejectedly at me.

"A month after, you met us at church and asked that he be brought to the hospital… do you not remember at all?"

I shook my head slowly and frowned in an effort to remember the woman before me. Her question was distressing and I frowned slightly at its implication. I had a very vivid memory and as a vampire, I never forgot.

"Maybe a name would help?" I asked, smoothing my brow and curving my lips into a charming smile.

"Oh... yes, of course! Scott. Harry Jenkins Scott."

Aha! I remembered the young man now. A closer look at his mother revealed the resemblance – same eyes, same shade of dark hair and the odd upside down smile. _Why didn't I notice this before? _

The young man, who had stumbled into my little office hanging precariously on a pair of makeshift crutches, had held his smile in place when I jabbed his ill-attended leg in examination. Though in great pain, the only betrayal of his composure had been the streams of sweat that ran down his forehead. I remembered him easily then because he was a rarity among his peers and I was awed by his poise.

It had been quite difficult to finally treat him. Especially, since he would not have been in such pain if his leg had been set, put in a cast and treated correctly from the beginning. The only way to heal the man had been to open up the old wounds and mend them properly. All of this was a grave ordeal for the brave young Harry who took it all in without so much as an outward wince.

I turned to look again at the smiling woman and placed the full amount needed for the purchase on her counter. "A little extra for some help home," I explained.

She shuffled off eagerly in search of hired labor and returned promptly with four smiling young men. They heaved the piano up and balanced it out carefully by its legs and then headed out down the road to our home.

As we took the final turn, I thought to ask them to set it on the curb while I 'prepared a place' for it and went in to check on Edward. My plans were thwarted nonetheless, when said young man walked out and stood regally at the door smiling. His eyes were alight in fiery liquid gold and his perfect white teeth glinted in the dimly cast light of the setting sun.

I sensed the initial panic of the four humans as their steps faltered momentarily at the alluring danger that stood before them. They shuffled their feet briefly and then unanimously continued on. My hands clenched and my eyes narrowed with the effort it took to ignore the determined worry that overcame me and to keep a literally clear head as we approached the front door. By the time we reached the porch steps, my excited son had already pushed the useless swing aside and prepared a place for the tired men to set the heavy contraption.

After that day, Harry had come in regularly to have me check on his fitted cast, ensuring his rapid recovery, which was soon enough to steady him on a walking cane. He made such enormous progress daily since then and his determination ceaselessly impressed me.

Which was why, when he offered to pay me money I did not need, I refused profusely and insisted he used the little he had accrued to take care of himself and his widowed mother. The young man had lowered his eyes to the ground and for a moment, I thought I saw a tear glisten in his eyes when he nodded his thanks and shook my cold hands unflinchingly.

I seldom saw him again since that day as he rarely ever came by the hospital. I was relieved that he no longer needed a doctor and wished him well in his endeavors mentally.

Therefore, it was unexpected and startling, when Harry walked up totally unaided as I left the hospital for home two weeks ago and said in a relatively low voice, "George Brooks is back."

I shot him a puzzled look over my shoulder and turned towards my car trying to gather my erratic thoughts. His footsteps followed me a while and then stopped abruptly.

"If you really want to meet him, you know where to find me."

I stood frozen in that spot for a long time, replaying and reviewing our one-sided conversation over and over.

When I finally reached home, the white house that was partly covered by the encroaching woods was filled with the floating notes of Debussy. I closed my eyes as I settled into the sofa across the room from my son and let the worries of the day drift on the wings of the flowing melody. The young pianist's serious expression suddenly changed into barely concealed amusement and then into full blown laughter. I chanced a glance his way and let my eyes glide shut again.

_Someone is going to think you are crazy_

"Only you," he countered.

_Ah well, you'll receive the best care then, won't you?_ I teased

He chuckled and stopped to lean across the top of the ivories. "I think I can handle one human Carlisle. I don't think you should worry too much about Harry. I don't even have to meet him. I'll stay in the woods when he visits again and tell you what he thinks when I get home."

_It seems a simple solution then, thank you, son._

He rolled his eyes and smiled delicately before returning to the notes of a song I had never heard before. After a while, I was left thinking only about the beautiful caramel haired girl with the broken leg. The memories of her round face and wide eyes were always an escape for me and I drowned in the vibrant blue of them even more today. _Oh, why did I have to leave Ohio?_

I reflexively retraced my journey from Ohio through Illinois to Wisconsin. The purpose for which we had made the move was persistently unresolved and I shook my head slightly. _Could Harry be our glimmer of hope?_

When we first arrived in Ashland, the little town was rife with rumors and horror stories about George Brooks. His return from some 'strange' unnamed place was whispered along the streets and thought of even more according to Edward. We had assumed then that our quest would be an easy one, but before I could find him still; he had disappeared again leaving a rise of mystery around his existence – if any at all.

The townspeople said he was a lonely old man who had been possessed by spirits of the undead. They claimed these spirits were the reason for his sudden disappearances and reappearances and many shuddered at the mere mention of his name. Edward had called it a misplaced fear, but the local chatter simply further escalated my curiosity.

A visit to his home proved worthless. The once white mansion had fallen into disrepair. Most of its glass windows were broken or replaced with wooden shutters and what once must have been a garden, was now beyond recognition as it had been overgrown with weeds. The dark house stood still among a grove of ancient willow trees and rebelliously refused any trespassers access to her depths.

I briefly considered scaling her walls and slipping through one of her fragile windows but decided against it immediately. The thought was both repulsive and demeaning and did not last a minute longer in my mind. Moreover, I had an aversion to intrusion and could not let my conscience lay that offense on me.

Who were these people Elizabeth Masen dealt with, I wondered. Very intangible, very secretive, very dangerous – just like vampires. I laughed at the thought that this little town could harbor that many mythical creatures and humbly turned away from the crumbling heap.

Today however, everything had changed. I had not seen Harry in a week and had only decided to find him and ask about George Brooks when I heard the pounding steps of a man on the run. I looked around quickly to measure my stance for any danger that may be following and narrowed my eyes towards the line of trees flanking the hospital yard.

A rapidly beating heart wore on and as the steps grew closer, I was sure they were human footsteps. I listened again, closely this time for clues about the assailant in pursuit. My first thought shamefully was my son. _EDWARD!! Where was he, is he safe?_

No matter how laughable the concept, I couldn't control the alarm that seized me. Nothing could be more dangerous to my son than another vampire. _Another vampire? –No! Besides, no human was likely to make it this far if Edward, or any other vampire for that matter was in pursuit. They'd be assuredly dead by now_.

A young man came into sight a few minutes later, running through the trees at quite an unattainable speed for a human with a recently broken leg.

He crashed haltingly before me, breathing hard, with his face painfully contorted, possibly from overworking his newly mended leg. I tried in vain to calm him down as I searched the foliage to find his pursuant. With a deliberation, I searched his eyes and placed my hands on his forearms to still his trembling, encouraging the young man to speak and explain the situation.

"George Brooks…" Harry wheezed loudly, his eyes bewildered "… his house is on fire!"

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Inspiration - Treason – Kutless (Sea of Faces)

Ok! Raise your hands if you think Sir George Brooks is a vampire or other worldly.

**Better still, leave a review!**

I have a fluffy Edward x Bella one-shot called _**Delusions **_on my profile. Come on, check it out. You know you want to… (Yeah, I know it's shameless.)


	6. NEW PICTURE

**A/N:** _Can I say sorry enough for the delay? __**Pardon! Je suis trés désolè!**_

_You could blame the delay on the fact that I got no reviews at all for the last chapter and wasted a whole week in confusion wondering if to continue the story at all. _

_My sincerest thanks to all who review and continue to review the twisted course of my mind – You are the very best. _

**THE UNLIKELY HEIR: **NEW PICTURE

_**Carlisle **_

What would bring a grown man to his knees if he was not facing death? I watched in part horror and fascination as George Brooks sunk before me in a crumpled and wrecked heap. His huge form shook violently and the sadness in his eyes hinted at tears. He sniffled a little, tore his white blonde hair out some and let out a strangled cry. If I had tears to shed, they would be streaming down my face for this man's misery.

I stretched a hand out halfway and realized belatedly that my cold touch may not be a relief in this instance. My eyes must have been wide and my mouth gaping when he turned to roam a distressed stare on me. They roamed frantically from my head to my feet making me acutely uncomfortable under his inspection. _What are you thinking?_ How I wish I could ask and sate my curiosity then and there.

I struggled to stay a composed expression on my face but he frowned slightly and turned back to gaze at the dark, hard wooden floor. He leaned back into his heels so he could curved his body to touch his elbows to the tops of his knees and raise his palms to encase his hanging head. A loud sigh split the deafening silence in the small room and I backed my still outstretched hand out slowly from the dejected man. My intention was to hand him a glass of water when I made to rise to my feet from the couch adjacent his, but he held his hand out and choked out a command to stay seated.

Agony sat her painful presence in the small office we had been talking at while I waited patiently for him to mourn whatever loss he saw in Elizabeth Masen's letter. It was not hard to guess what had caused his pain but I needed to know, quite desperately, why. Why would Elizabeth's passing initiate this reaction from this man? The letter had only cited him fleetingly causing me to believe he was a business partner in this puzzle. Here however, was not a typical reaction from a business associate in whatever endeavor they shared. The ties of a personal relationship were the only binds that could tug so firmly that they caused a grown man to sink this low in desolation – leaving him vulnerable to a stranger he only knew as a doctor. No clarification held quite as firm as that, there was an obvious and undoubted truth; this man was much closer to Elizabeth than I had projected.

That epiphany nullified my expectations for this meeting and brought about a whole new look to the situation. My hope that this would be a 'give, verify, take' affair no longer held and the simple transaction I thought it would be, was rendered moot by the evidence of the still crouching form before me. _Were they related or was there a long friendship? Could this mystery be so significant that it left one feeling so helpless when a player was lost in its vitality?_

The questions plagued on and still no answers so far had been given for the whimsical decision we had taken to settle in Wisconsin. If anything at all, the clues just kept on piling in all the different situations we encountered since that fateful night in Chicago. Could it be the reason for the gnawing pity that accompanied confusion when I dredged William Crest up? Where was the trembling old man now? He had held a shadow of the resigned devastation in the darkened blue-green of George Brooks's eyes that sought the old forgotten sensation of prickling tears from my own in his slumped shoulders. Grown men – and vampires – do not cry, do they?

It was a while before the man lifted himself up and sat at the edge of the overstuffed sofa. He looked around the room and smiled tentatively at me for the first time since we met. _Was that just a few hours ago? _

I remembered as we'd neared the inferno that could only be George Brooks's home a couple of hours ago, a bulky but well-built man – probably in his mid thirties, sat on a boulder across the flaming mass looking calm for the most part and the only spotting the evidence that he had been anywhere near the fire with a smudged face and smoke blemished attire. He seemed detached from the tragedy before him and then from my probing hands when he permitted me to examine him.

"Do you feel any pain here?" I had asked as I gently prodded his chest though quite obviously, a wasted task as I could hear his breathing was steady and his heartbeat normal which meant his lungs were still intact. A whispered denial and after a while, narrowed cerulean eyes behind thick rutted brows scorching through mine, were all I got for my efforts. He appeared slightly annoyed and muttered astonishment at my 'strange' gold tint before scowling when I asked how he'd escaped the inferno.

"I run out," he stated simply turning his head away to look through the willowing trees. Feeling dismissed and quite desperate, I offered to better examine him at the hospital which he rejected. "Only if it would be in private," he revised and suggested 'my home'. _Hmm, interesting._

While Harry hurried to fetch the fire brigade, I drove him over to the house and led him to my study. He eyed Edward with intense curiosity but the young man stood deceptively unaware of the stranger. _Kudos for great acting _I teased and watched his supple stature saunter away from the corner of my eyes. I knew he had not gone far, I could smell him around even closer now. It was a relief to know we'd only have to compare notes after this meeting to fill in any blanks George Brooks left.

Somehow though, I suspected there wouldn't be too many blanks to fill when the human man scrunched his fairly youthful face into a grimace and turned to meet my seemingly patient gaze. Insatiable curiosity threatened to rip the answers I needed from the man. _Patience Cullen, just a few more minutes now._

"This is from Elizabeth."

Was that a question? He lifted tortured eyes at me and I nodded to confirm or affirm where necessary. His long fingers gripped the paper once more and then turned to place it on the table before him to gently smooth its folded wrinkles out. He traced the words with both hands and eyes and let out another sigh when they hit the bottom of the page.

"This was not as we planned it. We had hoped for a few more years before the end was set upon us," he begun.

Who was 'we' anyway? This was really not how I had expected this to go either… but then again nothing that ever involved Elizabeth was predictable. I sighed and turned to glance at the mantel momentarily, trying to calm my own insides. I hadn't realized I was standing till he nodded at the chair behind me and just like I had for William Crest; I took it silently and waited.

He turned to study me a little closer and gulped. _Natural_. It was imperceptible what he thought as he took in the inhuman beauty with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. He shivered a little and looked around the room – probably searching for an emergency escape, I thought. His eyes widened at the collection of art pieces hanging on the walls and the irrefutable wealth that accosted him.

Stammering, he dared to ask, "pardon my in… in… insolence doctor, but… but, who are you?"

_I'm a vampire and so is bronxie over in the living room._ I noted the rapid rise and fall of his chest when I hesitated and spread my lips slowly in a fresh attempt to quell his worries._ Finally, a well placed fear._

Instead I said, "I am Carlisle Cullen. I am a physician at the County Clinic and Edward is my nephew. We moved here from Chicago about a year ago."

He nodded once, apparently reassured by my toothless smile and turned to look pensively ahead with unseeing eyes clearly searching his memories for whatever he was about to say. One gulp, two gulps…

"Lizzy was my best friend – we shared almost everything. Our parents were friends too so it was quite impossible to separate us at all. We attended school together and spent most of the time after either in her home or mine. I considered myself her older brother till we were about sixteen years old. By then, I had become a young man and could not deny the beauty that she had become. It became difficult to see her only as a friend so it was just as well that I obey when my father insisted I acquire foreign education."

He cast a sidelong glance my way as if to judge my reaction to his words. I had set my stone face in a calm façade and smiled slightly to encourage him. He nodded and continued – his stare, straight ahead again.

"I was shipped off to a boarding school in Paris and though it clearly broke our hearts, I had a foolish conviction that when I returned, Elizabeth would be waiting and then I could make my intentions known. When I returned three years later, she had already met Edward Masen and fallen hopelessly in love with him. It broke my heart to pieces when she chose him and got married. While she settled into her life of bliss, I moved to Brooklyn in New York to wallow in my pain."

Sigh.

"Three years ago, after about sixteen years of her absence, I received a letter from Elizabeth instructing me to pick up a package from a William Crest. She claimed it was filled with letters from Edward's father, Anthony Masen. Apparently, 'golden boy' Edward had a run in with his father and forbade his family any contact with him. She hid the letters well till her husband chanced on a piece of jewellery he recognized as his mother's which old man Masen kept zealously. Anthony had sent her the bauble as a birthday gift and she had forgotten to tuck it away when she wore it that day. As it became more dangerous to keep the letters herself without incurring her husband's displeasure, she entrusted them into my care until she could claim Anthony Masen's fortune and put it in trust for her son."

He studied his knitted fingers and wrung them in nervousness. _This is intriguing, please continue._ I held my lips firm and made no sound. Better not to draw him from his reminiscing.

"It is such a shame I didn't get to meet Edward Jr.," he said, bowing his head and shaking it slowly. There was a short pause before he resumed his earlier stance and spoke again.

"Elizabeth spoke about her son with such affection and awe, often referring to him as the most beautiful child ever, that it caused a deep jealousy in me. Even though, her obvious admiration for her child caused me pain, I reckoned that if I helped her in her quest, then maybe –just maybe, I could inspire an amount of that kind of love from her. Unfortunately, I got immersed in mob activities and it became too dangerous to attempt a go at the enormous Masen estate without encountering the New York underworld.

Moreover, it was said that his attorneys awaited a particular letter that would trigger the sequence that would finally name an heir. She never entrusted me with that responsibility, claiming it would be difficult to hide such a matter from her husband now that he was suspicious. Then, business in Brooklyn went bad and I had Harry help me change my identity and move into this small town.

A year ago, William Crest showed up at Harry's home and instructed that another letter be delivered to me. It surprised me greatly as I had not expected her to find me here. This time, Elizabeth said to await a doctor from Chicago to whom I was supposed to hand the letters that had been in my care all this while. Again, I was crushed that I could not solicit her trust so I determined to avoid you at all cost."

Another sigh.

"However, today, as I watched my house burn, I realized how unreliable I had become. I have been filled with too much bitterness and never truly appreciated the life of my best friend and her son or the love she so freely gave in her trust. Maybe, if I had forgiven myself and accepted my loss gracefully, she might have let me into her life. I probably would be her baby's Godfather or something akin to that."

He shook his head again and flashed me a brief smile. _Please continue._

"There is too much danger in my life Carlisle," _wow, we are on a first name basis now, huh?_

"You would be most suited to claim that estate before some unscrupulous fellow run it to the ground. She was right, you are the closest to family anybody could have. Even if little Edward was still alive, you could claim and manage his inheritance better than any one of us would," he pressed.

He stiffened slightly and gulped again. I offered some water but he declined while his eyes turned hard temporarily and he smiled apologetically.

"The problem is; Anthony has two other children who would fight tooth and nail for his property. They never were their father's favorites and it was no secret how they paid him no regard while he was still alive. They wish now to convince a judge that he died interstate and split his money in half… despite the fact that I suspect one would lose his half soon after. They are greedy, ruthless and stubbornly determined that anybody who came too close to the fortune died or disappeared."

Ah, so our assassins were Edward's uncles? Did he know he had uncles at all? I suppressed a frown when I remembered my early imaginings. Somehow, the prospects of dark robed humans trying to catch up with us did not seem so hilarious after all. What if anybody got hurt or died. Just as I was about to voice a protests, George spoke up again.

"I wish you no harm Carlisle, so I'm offering everything I have to ensure you succeed. Harry would provide any documents you would need through this quest and I would watch vigilantly for any assassins. This is the least I can do for her memory and for the love that she never took from me. She honored me with her most prized possession and it is my duty to make certain she achieves her purpose. Maybe someday, you could show me their graves? Supposing you know where they are that is."

"Yes, I will."

I barely heard him and answered a tad too flippantly but my mind worked solely on this new bit of information. Why would Elizabeth ask that I claim money which was quite obviously more suited to the so-called greedy sons than a total stranger like me? Why had she not mentioned this was a mission to claim an inheritance for Edward in the letter? What about the letters, what was so important about them? Wait the letters…

"Were the letters not destroyed in the fire?" I asked warily.

"I never carried it along – too dangerous. They are in a safety deposit box in Rochester, New York. A trusted friend of mine, Royce King, owns a bank there. I am sure he will be glad to see some use come out of them finally. We could plan a day's visit to fetch them?"

_Brilliant, it would have been really disappointing to miss the chance to confuse a few hit men._ I bit back my smile and nodded as he rose to his feet and grabbed the top coat I offered him earlier.

"I must be on my way now if I hope to find a place to pass the night at my aunt's. Perhaps we could meet again soon?"

_Most definitely._

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The Flame in All of Us - Thousand Foot Krutch

Fully Alive - Flyleaf

So let's get a few things clear, Royce King Jr. is still too young to be who I am referring to.

Return to Chapter 3 (the letter) to find what Carlisle is missing and then send me your theories. I am most excited to know.

This chapter is somewhat slow but there are racier chapters are up ahead. Really!

**PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!! They are like blood to a thirsty vampire!!!**


	7. DISCLOSURE

**A/N: **- _My most heartfelt thanks to findthewill, without whom this chapter would not be. I feel humble and undeserving of you! __**Merci beaucoup!**_

_Mad love to my super fantastic beta, Slovesemmett. Your red pen is a welcome sight! _

_So, a few questions I had expected from chapter 6._

_What did Brooks mean by "This was not as we planned it. We had hoped for a few more years before the end was set upon us."? _

_How did William Crest know that to find Harry was to find Brooks? _

_Well, nobody asked so, on we go with the story! _

_Thanks so much for the PMs and in response to your question, *your_only_male_reader* (very presumptuous and flattering), yes, I know there are many ways to kill a cat; the most popular though must be curiosity albeit not entirely the most assured way. Thanks for sharing this story with your friends at work! _

_Thank you for the anon comments, you rock and your theories had me laughing so_ _hard! _

_Tons of appreciation to all who read, review and have me on alert; you absolutely complete me. _

_**Show some love if you like it! Please!!! **_

7. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR:** DISCLOSURE

_**Carlisle **_

_Oh Edward!_

I glanced at my son's retreating form once more as I headed out for the hospital. Trying for a smile was pretentious and I knew this as he must also, that no matter how hard I struggled to hide it, I was despairing. Somehow, the evidence was hardest to ignore so, to keep from seeming callous, Edward avoided me all night. It was painful in many ways; aside frustration, I felt a bitter hopelessness and desperation grip the very edge of logical reasoning. If only it was sure to make it all go away, I would scream till my throat fell out.

It was inexorably wrong – no matter what – and that it happened to 'save' an already lost life was not exactly comforting either. However, was there any justice in his actions? He swore justice was his driving force but still, was it the best sentence for their sins?

Granted that this life was in no means the easiest, the suppression of instinct, the revolution against what was natural, disobedience to a call so strong it could only be achieved through an even greater faith and tremendously adamant discipline, but Edward had displayed a disposition of strength and passion in many other positions so I knew this was not unachievable for him.

How wrong was I? His eyes were wild in anxiety and uncertainty as he looked up to offer his explanation. He threw his hands up in frustration and kicked the chair he stood from across the room; the wood splintering loudly as it hit the concrete wall.

_Temper down son. I'm here, I'll listen._

"It was the only way Carlisle, she deserved some justice," he growled in a low voice while pacing across the room.

_Yes, but is murder for murder the best justice?_

He turned abruptly, stalked forward and stood right before me. His narrowed eyes bore into mine and I held mine to his. Let him see now how wrong his actions were, that I mean him no harm and that I am willing to work it out with him if he'll let me. We stood shoulder to shoulder, red to gold, vampire to vampire, father to son?

"It was my only choice Carlise," the menace nearly lost from his tone as he begged my understanding.

"Choice or rage?" I countered quietly.

He flinched and scampered off down the hallway, leaving the wooden door shaking in its hinges.

Doing my best to swallow the raging disappointment and encourage him as a good father should, I placed a hand on his shoulder when he strode into my study this morning. My efforts though, could be equated to naught as he shrugged off any support and continually turned away from me. His face was etched in deep deliberation as he warred within and it crushed me further to see him so morose. _I love you_ I thought once more in a last frantic attempt to reach out and confirm my faith in him, but as he run through the back door, my fears became substantial again – will Edward stay?

It was barely morning and the skies were clear enough to hint at another bright day. I hurriedly climbed into my vehicle, making sure to focus only on my hasty exit while I sped around the corner towards the docks. The fish market further on was teaming with sweaty bodies and its fresh catch, so it was very likely no one would notice my loud automobile as it passed through the bustle. Still, I had learned my lesson well when Harry explained that I was not as careful as I thought. It shook my hollow unfed core violently that he had followed me to the Brooks mansion and had kept a distance that even I couldn't detect. _Better not to court attention even if it brought along some good_.

Even though Edward assured me that Harry suspected nothing, I asked him about it yesterday at the hospital and his excuse was that he wanted to thank me somehow for righting his broken leg so he paid closer attention to me. Scary! Then he shrugged lightly and said, "Obviously you were interested in finding the man when you asked Rev. about him that morning at the Church so I figured why not." _That had been the day I asked that he be brought to the hospital? Not exactly stealthy on my part then. _I accepted his explanations and continued to finish my ward duties.

Yet still, I shuddered slightly at the memory and slowed the car to a quiet crawl to avoid unwanted stares as I passed the market by. At the crossroads that led to the hospital, I turned the other way and drove on towards Ohio. Once the road was devoid of early morning risers, I depressed the accelerator harder in my fervor to find seclusion and release from the budding pain.

Sorrow scorched equally with mortification. It was just as bad as it had when my son came home hours ago, and while it was still unabated, it was well hidden until I could pretend to leave for my early morning call. Oh Lord, how did this happen? My deficiencies were evident in my son's eyes and a harsh reminder that I woefully failed at parenting. Had I been so inadequate as a father that Edward had no qualms about defying me? An old guilt emerged and seared my better side for its faults. _What makes you think anybody else could live as you do, do you think it's fair to restrict the natural and inevitable?_ It chided.

I had come to trust Edward so much that it never crossed my mind that he would so blatantly rebel against me. During his newborn year, I had expected a few lapses but they never came. Why now then? I slowed to a stop along the deserted interstate and stepped out into the sun. My skin shone and reflected like the dazzling ruins of a broken mirror, throwing shimmering colors in different directions in the sun and I cared not for those who looked on. I looked up into the blinding light above and said a silent prayer, a plea for help to clear my head and return some sanity to its chaos.

After a while without much success, I turned back towards the town as the sun slowly hid behind thick black clouds. If I went to the hospital now, I wouldn't have to leave until it was sufficiently dark to come out once again without revelation. Maybe, if I immersed myself in work, I could think less about my paternal inadequacies and focus more on solutions.

Suddenly, church bells rang in the distance and broke through my deliberation, spurring me to look out at the steeple beyond. Its draw pulled taut at me till I succumbed to its promised solace.

I stepped over the threshold and slipped into the last pew in the darkened corner. A quick survey to assess the quaint chapel revealed the wooden altar in the front and the strip of rug laid at its foot designed in bright square patterns. A large wooden crucifix was nailed to the wall behind the pulpit and a couple of small stained glass motifs above streamed in colored light. Instantly, the stirrings of familiarity and serenity engulfed me and I settled deeper into their hold.

Looking up ahead brought back memories of my father's wooden cross, which hung rather brazenly above the window in the hallway of our house overlooking my bedroom door. As usual, Edward laughed every time he passed by it and once commented that the atonement of vampire sins required more than a wooden cross. _"Maybe steel, granite or even diamond?" _he'd mocked and I had smiled at his humorous logic.

I smiled again now, not from his misconceptions about the man who bore all pain to free those who lay theirs at his feet, but that if we really were less than humans and more monsters, then it was only fitting that one who was greater than humans would have even more pity for the still less fortunate. I smiled at the thought that yesterday had started out as it usually did and ended in tragedy and that it was unexpected but undeniable all the same. Just like the representation of the extravagant love that God gave us all regardless of status, race, creed, and hopefully, kind.

Who would have thought two nights ago, as I sat in the armchair by the unnecessary fire while Edward played quietly on the grand piano, that barely a few hours would herald such turmoil? We had caught snippets of our on-going conversation in between tunes and laughed again at George Brooks's misconceptions. It had not sounded funny at first when Edward mentioned that the man thought Elizabeth had cheated on Edward Masen Sr. with me, making Edward Jr. a product of that impossibility. Such a shallow, but not completely stupid, reasoning. How else would anybody explain the gold eyes and bronze hair along with the charge to find and claim a vast fortune which was privy only to the woman who had the same shade of hair color? Not too far off what could be the most plausible explanation but didn't he know that appearances could be deceptive?

Deception like Scott's and Brooks's usually ended in deaths and the little lady who lay in the morgue was just one of its unknowing victims. Not that they were entirely to blame for her demise, seriously if we had all paid any attention, we might have seen the eminent danger that stalked Mary's steps. Besides her amorous relationship with Brooks, she acted as an intermediary for George and Mr. King as we plotted the best way to retrieve the letters unnoticed.

I had only seen her once before her lifeless body was brought to the hospital yesterday. Fiery red hair framed her face in unruly curls and warred for attention with her rosy cheeks. She was vibrant with a sparkling pair of blue eyes. As she showed Edward and I to the shelf where we could pick out gloves for the coming winter, I saw her bat long lashes at the young man at my side. Usually, it was a hard choice for women to make when we both made an appearance at the same time and almost always, Edward's clenched jaws and set lips lost the-who-is-the-most- beautiful contest which was fine as long as they caused him no pain. Besides, it was easier for me to withdraw from their attentions without hurting any fragile feelings than it was for him when he could read their thoughts too.

However, I was too intent on the woman at the other shelf with her back turned to me to pay Mary any attention. She wore a sundress that seemed too thin to shield her much from the weather and which seemed a bit too tight around the waist. It took a while to register the steady fluttering heart beating inside her. Her hair was held up in a high ponytail with delicate tendrils falling around her face and over the back of her neck. Something about her reminded me of the girl who filled all my vacant thoughts daily. The blue eyed beauty with the gentle smile.

Mary was still unfazed by the brooding look on the young vampire's face and persisted till I politely asked for the bill for our purchase. While she rung up the cash register, Edward made his escape and walked out of the little store. Even then, as I walked out the door to join him, two men in long black cloaks entered and made straight for the counter.

Her death had brought back the reality of the consistent warnings from Elizabeth's letter and George Brooks about the dangers involved in this escapade we had embarked on. The deep ridges that tore through her mutilated body flashed before me and I cringed at the extent of human wickedness Edward described.

_Who would be next?_ I mused. George, who mourned woefully at the loss of yet another love, or Harry, who was his mother's only surviving child? It would kill her if she lost him too.

_If I had been at the clearing where they intended to bury her body, would I have done the same thing Edward did? Exactly what would I have done then? _

"Father?" a voice that was unmistakably my son's called from behind me and I looked up at him as he settled in beside me on the bench.

"Come to donate a special granite cross to the fraternity of vampires with souls?"I whispered and smiled into his serene face. In the darkness of the corner, no one would see what he tried to hide. His head was bent and his eyes closed as though he was saying a prayer. If anybody paid attention to us, they would only see us two listening intently to Reverend 's inane chatter.

He smiled and whispered back, "No Carlisle, I came to say I slipped and won't happen again."

_I know_

"Really, that is what scares me the most. You seem to think it is easy for me."

_No, it is a possibility if only you set your mind to it. _"We all slip and fall Edward, and though it is regrettable, it is no reason not to stand right back up and try again." I added quickly.

_We will stay a while longer and judge what people know. Then we'll try again?_

He nodded once and opened his eyes to stare at the ground while I stared at him. In that moment, it didn't matter what color his eyes were. All I cared about was the young man who sat next to me and how good it felt to have my son here.

I saw a small smile play at the edge of lips as he raised blood red eyes to mine.

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By Your Side – Tenth Avenue North (Over and Underneath)

Hold My Heart – Tenth Avenue North (Over and Underneath)

Times (Over and Underneath) – Tenth Avenue North (Over and Underneath)

_Oh Edward! *sniff sniff * I cried through the entire chapter and I don't really know why!!!_

_You can visit http:// edwinacullen. livejournal .com for a sneak peek of Chapter 8_

_**Reviews are like a shoulder to cry on and heaven knows I need that so much now!**_


	8. ENCLOSURE

_**A/N**__:Thanks to the ever amazing findthewill, who put it all back in perspective!!_

_ To my angel beta, Slovesemmett. I'm lost without you!_

8. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR:** ENCLOSURE

_I love you._

Carlisle's slightly frustrated mental voice rang through my head as I sped past balding trees in search of my solace. In a few minutes I would be on my own and free from my father's displeasure, pitiful thoughts and wary glances. What I did was right and I was not about to let him convince me otherwise.

The only place that held that promise of peace loomed before me and I ran faster towards the waterfall. Her loamy banks were still covered with lush green grass and her cascade hummed a steady rhythm as it slid over the sharp edged cliff where she fell from. If I could sleep, I would sink into oblivion and drown in her lull.

A sudden idea to take a quick swim seemed good, so I lay my clothes on top of a boulder and stepped into the watery depths. After a few laps, I stood under the cool spray of the waterfall and spread my arms wide to catch as much of its rain as was possible. My time here was my escape from the harsh realities beyond.

The cruel memory of my father's horrified face when he stepped through the living room door and saw my crimson eyes haunted me relentlessly. It was not my intention to hurt Carlisle – far from it, but I leveled a cold hard stare on him when he attempted to speak. The look on his face spoke volumes more than his suddenly chaotic thoughts, and when his disappointment surfaced, my indignation rose as well. He had no right to judge me when he had not seen what I had seen.

It was hardly necessary to keep listening to his thoughts because they sought answers for questions that I refused to acknowledge.

_What happened Edward, who was it? Do you know?_

I refused to remember how the men struggled ineffectively against me or their blood, which soothed a yearning and quelled the burning in my throat like no animal's blood could, much less their names. Mostly, I refuse to remember the contented look on their faces when they dragged the dead girl across the clearing to her makeshift grave.

I shook my head vigorously and ran my hand through my unruly hair as I stepped out of the water and lay on its bank. After many additional laps failed to clear my head, I looked up into the bright sky to consider my actions. The imminent winter breeze opposed the burning sun above and blew whispers across my naked chest lapping at the droplets of water that still clung to my body. It blew tickling whispers beneath my nose and swirled off to mingle with the morning's new light. It didn't matter much what time of day it was, yesterday's activities played like a broken record in my mind.

I sighed and shut my eyes against the brilliant rays but the memories I sought to forget, played behind my eyes and I watched once more as the chair I had been sitting on the night before, flew across the room and crashed to a million pieces. My obstinate heart held had its opposition to my father's sincerity and all but screamed at me, _you are right! She deserved her justice._

_Temper down son. I'm here, I'll listen, _Carlisle thought_._ His face was calm but I was irritated with my father and his perfectly patient ways. Why could he not see how right it was that I had been there?

"It was the only way Carlisle, she deserved some justice," I tried to explain.

_Yes, but is murder for murder the best justice?_

How was ensuring that those criminals never killed again a murder? It hurt equally that Carlisle compared me with those beast. But it was the truth, that was exactly what I was in the clearing yesterday; a fearsome creature whose only aim was to kill.

_Edward, please understand that it was wrong and irrational. Their death was not punishment, it was not justice,_ he pled. His eyes were wide with compassion and pity while mine narrowed in revulsion at his thoughts. He was right, I knew this, but I refused to admit it.

"It was my only choice," I whispered, trying again and failing miserably in my own ears. It sounded like a plea, but for what, I could not fathom. Maybe I begged for his forgiveness or for his understanding but I knew I was wrong and the battle was lost as the question fell from his mouth.

"Choice or rage?"

I had huddled in my room all night and listened to my father beat himself up over and over for my mistakes. How I wished I could tell Carlisle that he was wrong and only I was to blame for the blood in my eyes, that my many excuses held no merit for what I had grown to be.

It was sheer rage and self righteousness that drove me to kill and I responded to it wholly like the beast I am. I stared down into my upturned hands and cringed at the sight of the ultimate killing machine they had become. My fingers were still skinny and long and when I played the piano, they seemed to caress the ivory keys. A few hours ago however, they had crushed bone without notice.

Fiery anger had engulfed my very being as I watched the unwitting men pull their load along the ground into the clearing just behind George Brooks's obliterated mansion. She had been stripped naked and fishing hooks hung from deep wounds in her wrist. There were deep ridges all around her midriff where she had been tied up with copper cords, her hands snarled into burned fists and a deep slash cut across her neck.

Both men searched a shrub nearby and quickly set to work digging a pit with the shovels they found. Their thoughts jubilated at the easy success of their latest tasks and carefully calculated the benefits their master promised they would derive from this assignment.

My lips stretched and pulled from my teeth as I let out a loud and fearsome growl that scared even me. George Brooks's mistress did not deserve to die for helping her lover and neither did the self-indulgent man deserve the loss of his home.

Mr. Brooks knew as little as he had said about the fortune my late mother tasked Carlisle with retrieving. Really, I saw no use for this treasure that so many others yearned for but Carlisle insisted mother had a good reason for pursuing it in the first place so I let him lead the way. We had not anticipated this gravity of danger and always, it had been for the mortals involved in this quest that Carlisle feared for the most. Well, here was his worst nightmare in ghastly horror.

I shut my eyes tight to let out the image of her cold white body but the dead girl's corpse haunted me. In her death, her face was wrinkled in a troubled chagrin and her open eyes promised revenge from their cold ghostly hollows.

Just a week ago, I had seen her as she emerged from her little shop near the bay with her smaller friend. They were happy as they strolled and laughed on their way to the boarding house where they stayed. Her friend was obviously pregnant and thought mostly of her baby. She cared little for the family she left behind and only mourned her mother's pain for her resolute daughter. She swore with certainty that she would never return to her abusive husband.

Mary on the other hand, cared not what her friend left behind. She was pleased to have a found a person who did not judge her harshly like other people did but instead patiently listened as she rumbled on about the many promises George made to her. "He promised to take me to New York soon" she had said, red curls bobbing in her obvious excitement and I stepped deeper into the dark alley behind the shop to hide as they passed.

I generally stayed away from everybody simply to stay on the safe side but I avoided Mary like the plague for another reason altogether. She genuinely thought she was in love with me, even though I hardly lasted a second longer in her mind when I was gone.

The first day we met was awkward for me at best. Her thoughts ran amok at first with expected wonder but when they turned from relatively harmless little walks on the beach and a walk down the street to a full blown make out session in the Chequamegon River, I cringed and swore to avoid her as much as I could.

Carlisle glimpsed my face briefly and saw my struggle. He promptly rescued me while her friend giggled quietly from the shelf she stood at accurately guessing what was happening. I quickly headed down the dust road in a hasty escape ignoring the thoughts of the men who walked past me into the shop. Even then, they stalked her and plotted their cruel plans.

Today, they had struck and killed her. She was already dead when they dragged her into the clearing and disturbed my musings. I lurked in the forest behind George Brooks's home gazing at the wreck and watching to see if the criminals who set it on fire would return. He was correct about the fact that others had burned his house down but very wrong about their competence.

These were not the group of glory seeking mobsters he had envisioned. They were trained and hired professionals who considered killing others a job to be done.

Mary's heart had quivered to a stop many paces before they reached their goal. The torture they had inflicted on her had given them the answers they sought, even though they were mostly wide of the mark, and led the naive mortal girl to her early grave. My vision had turned hot and red when the tall one called David kicked her body aside to reveal the huge gashes along her thighs as well. I briefly wondered what had caused those but lay it aside to consider later. Today would be the day they learned never to kill the innocent again.

I leapt from my perch on the high branch and hit the ground with force enough to shake the tree nearby. Instantly, both heads snapped up in confusion and fear. All thoughts ceased in the face of the ethereal beauty that stood before them. A moment passed before their instincts kicked in but that was a moment too long. They scrambled and fumbled for a hasty getaway and it only infuriated me more. These mortals and their fractional abilities disgusted me thoroughly. My fury rose again and when I fixedly stared into their frightened faces, my eyes were hard as diamonds.

I became the shell of evil, letting my indignant self. I walked lightly towards them and deeper into the clearing watching their thoughts as they watched my lips pull into a sinister smile. Very deliberately, my teeth were bared in half amusement and anticipation as I came to a stop just inside the crude cemetery. No headstone? My right brow shot up, I looked slowly from the naked corpse to their stunned faces. Bugging eyes looked on as doom's unearthly beauty strolled to stand right before them in the overgrown patch. Shovels fell from limp hands; their task completely abandoned and forgotten.

"Who are you?" the braver of the two stammered. His eyes were haunted and hollow and his legs shook when I turned to regard him. _What's with all the play, snap his head already_ a voice said from inside me and I licked my lips. Venom flowed through my teeth instinctively responding to the man's erratic heart and then the hunt took over - completely.

He wept hysterically and begged ceaselessly to be spared his inevitable fate but the mumbled words neither registered nor were they heard. Suddenly, David drew out his pistol and held it to my chest. This time, I laughed; it was genuinely amusing. My hands shot up and snapped his wrist before he could discern the movement. He moaned in pain and held his hands up. The pool of blood beneath his thin skin was my undoing. In the flash of an eye, his neck was lodged between my teeth as I pressed and tore through the thin membrane to his pulsing blood.

I pulled deeply at his throat and stifled a groan. The taste was beyond description, smooth and warm. His blood travelled through my dry throat and I instantly felt a heat spread through me. Its compelling aroma held me latched on to the struggling man with greater force and I vaguely heard and felt the crunching bones beneath my fingers.

He whimpered but I persisted, unwilling to let go of my kill until the very last drop of its delicious blood was drained. The warmth soaked through me until it reached the very tips of my toes and burst into brilliant white light around me and then I was lost. Lost to everything; I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing but. This incredible high on which I was strung tight and unable to break free from with my body coiled in response to its intoxicating power. As though afraid to lose hold on gravity and fly off with the tide of blinding pleasure, I held on even tighter, squeezing harder till there was no blood left in his drained body. A million stars twinkled behind my eyelids when I pulled in my last gulp and a shiver drove down straight through my spine causing my body to shudder in sweet pleasure.

This was incomparable to animal blood; in fact, it was incomparable to any other taste I could remember in either my human or inhuman life, I relished the experience and craved more yet still! The monster had been unleashed and only too glad to indulge. I tensed again with expectancy, this time my eyes roved for the human had not run very far and his scent still hang above like a cloud.

His rattling teeth gave him away quicker than his thoughts or rapidly beating heart. The tall man huddled behind a large tree not far off, sweat streamed down his ashen face and his thoughts were a screaming jumble of contradictions that spurred me on. As he tried to pull his options together and decide what kind of death he imagined better suited my kind, I quickly climbed the large tree and lazily swung from branch to branch.

I would have laughed at the absurdities he thought up, had the fury did not clouded my mind completely, and the human face of the dead girl did not flash continuously by. _A stake through the heart_? I could crush steel easily… wait, did they still have stakes? _A silver bullet_? I could outrun those if I so chose to but still a waste all the same. _No, garlic_! This was getting tiresome. _Aha! A Crucifix!_ Sorry, too immune; my father hung one right above my bedroom door.

The new me smiled mockingly and silently fell from the branch above the still frenzied man and I swiftly closed the short distance it took to stand right behind him. To my delight, the blood pulsed even faster under his paled skin in fear. This would be slower than the first time I mused, this time I would truly enjoy every drop of the life giving nectar as it travelled down in hot spurts down my throat.

He shrieked when he turned around and ran headlong into my stone body. I was unperturbed on my mission, doing well to make sure this man never killed another again. A quick turn and a moment later, the satiated monster returned to his lair.

I stared at the drained body clutched in my hands and moaned as the guilt overwhelmed me. Carlisle would not approve.

That was yesterday, before we had argued and before he had held out a helpful hand. I was too proud then to face my shortcomings head on and also too cowardly to yield to my better side and take my father's outstretched hand. Now, I felt a weakness I had never felt before as I came to the realization that I was not only wrong but, my pride and self justified anger caused the one person I could most rely on, pain.

I'd find Carlisle at the hospital and apologize. In all the mess I created, I would try and right one wrong even if it meant I was dealt a reprimand. It was not worth pursuing a hunt that resulted in the pain and guilt in my silent but aching heart.

I ran back through the trees towards home to change my clothes and find a hat. I would sneak in through the back of the hospital but it was safer to take a little precaution than add to our woes if anyone noticed my scarlet eyes. The wind whipped the edges of my coat back as I set out excitedly towards the hospital and blew them forward with equal gust as I came to a crashing halt at the edge of the cemetery behind the town's only chapel where I noticed my father's car was parked.

Carlisle's thoughts were a jumble of regrets and questions and I knew what I had to do.

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_I'm so sick - Flyleaf (Flyleaf)_

_You decide – Fireflight (The Healing of Harms)_

_Prodigal – Casting Crowns (Lifesong)_

_The Unlikely Heir got an amazing banner here at http:// edwinacullen. livejournal. com_

___your_only_male_reader kindly started a thread on the pre-twilight forum for this story over at twilighted. _

___Come pass by and say hi! _**http:// www. twilighted. net/ forum/ viewtopic. php? f=17& t=4042 **_(please remove the spaces)_

_**REVIEW **__– this couldn't possibly keep you in hiding still, could it? Say what you feel now and let it all out!_


	9. SEIZURE

_A/N: Here is my admission to findthewill, __**you were so right!**_

_Chapter 5 has been reworked to better reflect its original purpose. The tweaks were necessary to improve its general readability and understanding. _

_Also, I have made a slight change to my penname. Edwina Cullen sounds better? Let me know._

_Thanks to my __**S**__uper beta, __**S**__lovesemmett, who is really __**S**__pecial, a life__**S**__aver and there is an __**S**__ in awe__**S**__ome too!_

_The delay? Let's just say I suffered a short case of newmoonitis (a disease suffered from a broken heart). _

_*bloodicicles* I only have Christian music on my playlists because that is all I ever listen to. _

9. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR: **SEIZURE

_**Carlisle**_

Something had to give, and eventually it did. George Brooks had disappeared and not even Harry knew where to this time.

It had been two whole weeks since I last enquired about his health from the innkeeper of the inn where he had been staying. The disheveled man was busily sawing a piece of wood at the carpenters shop when I passed by to pick up a new piano bench for Edward. He barely looked up from his task when he muttered his apologies.

"I am sorry I do not know where he is," he said slowly and turned to walk up to me. I dipped my hands into both pockets of my coat and held my gaze firmly on his face as I stood in the doorway of the workshop where I waited patiently for the carpenter to bring my furniture. He wiped his dirty hands across his grease stained shirt and lifted hard guarded eyes to mine. "He has been gone a whole fortnight now," he sputtered.

Before I could phrase another question, the chagrined innkeeper launched into a torrent of complains, claiming that George had quietly left without settling the rest of his bills with the inn and worse, he had forgotten to blow out a burning candle the night before his departure. Apparently, the naked flame had caught on a curtain and burned down half the room he had been staying in.

As the innkeeper's rant ended, his voiced dipped as well into a whisper and his eyes turned forlorn. "Nobody saw him leaving," he said, stepping back to his task. "He just disappeared into thin air – poof!" he raised a hand up and snapped using the clicking sound to emphasize the poof.

I was mildly astounded by this news but quickly hid my dismay. I nodded a curt goodbye at the sullen man as the carpenter surfaced from the back room and begun to load the bench into the back of my car. I hurried home to drop off the bench and swiftly drove back to town to start my night shift at the hospital.

As much as I wanted to stay true to the agreement Edward and I had reached, it was hard to ignore the curiosity that ran tirelessly through my mind and forcing myself to forget George Brooks's troubles and the obvious danger that tended to accompany him and his shifty dealings was a herculean task. I was barely able to concentrate on my shift and was grateful for the uneventful night at the hospital.

_What is the pale blond man up to now_ I wondered? In my musings, my mind dredged up another Mary, another deal gone badly and another life to pay for the coward's negligence and insecurity.

By mid morning of the following day, I quickly finished off at the hospital and was soon sitting tentatively in the Scott's living room waiting for a reasonable reply. Harry kept insisting he had no idea where George had gone but his voice seemed to betray him, his tone was swinging through emotions, first from outrage, then to disbelief before finally settling on whispering fright.

"I have no idea where he is Dr. Cullen," he murmured again in a resigned voice, his eyes faraway in contemplation. It was obvious he understood the implications of the situation as well as I did. It was only a matter of time now, before we found George's rotting corpse or a hastily dug unmarked grave. _Perhaps, we would never see George Brooks again._ Without another word, I left the trembling young man in his terrified stupor and walked out.

In the end, it was a reminder about the reason for the pact I made with my son that settled my careening mind. As I crossed the street from the Scott's home to my car, a little girl ran straight into me. She suddenly looked up with trusting eyes and a wide grin. I smiled back at her and she skipped on laughing to meet her friends on the other side. Immediately, I knew it was no use pursuing a dangerous venture if it consistently threatened the safety of our secret. We were better off keeping the truth hidden. The innocent inhabitants of Ashland were better off not knowing what to make of us than to begin nattering and speculating.

With my resolve not to get involved in small town scandal further strengthened, I drove home to my son. The one to whom I owed my unwavering devotion and protection even if it was with a very subtle hope that at a more opportune time, we could get back on the trail of Elizabeth's hidden treasure. However, right now, being a vampire, staying a doctor and keeping company with Harry and George were painfully impossible.

I wholly understood Edward's concern about or need to stay hidden from prying eyes and in the scant discussion that day in the forest, where meager words were spoken and a consensus reached easily, I decided it was no use arguing with the fact.

After the unfortunate incident with Mary's captors, Edward and I had hunted together nearly every day for two whole weeks. Gradually, his eyes had slowly faded into their usual gold and he began to drive his car around town again instead of sulking silently in his room. Once during our hunting trips, we accidentally strayed through the accursed and unceremonious burial ground that was my son's undoing. Edward screeched to a stop and looked pointedly at the nearly invisible grave holding the bloodless remains of the two assassins beneath the large oak tree and groaned. His hard, cold eyes swept through the clearing a short moment before he ran along with me.

I knew he was thinking about his encounter with the killers and was remembering the excitement that had followed in the wake of the murder. Ashland had come to a standstill the day folks learned about Mary's demise, most were enraged but some women who feared the same fate, huddled in their homes from fear. Later that day, a few young men planned a hunt for the people responsible for the heinous crime. They held vigils every night for an entire week in an attempt to find the disturbed soul who had been so cruel.

When it was obvious their efforts were futile, they quickly shifted their thinking to blame either George Brooks or runaway Negro slaves for the shocking brutality that ended in young Mary's death. Because these allegations were unfounded, it was difficult to dissuade each man from the belief he firmly clung to. Soon, the controversy had created rifts between colleagues, friends and even families. The real truth however, stayed hidden within my son's crimson eyes.

As soon as we had drained two stray cougars, Edward turned to me and said, "Carlisle, about my mother's. . ."

I instantly understood the route to take with this conversation and lifted a hand to stop him before the remaining words tumbled out. "Yes, I understand," I said. _It is not worth the toll on human life. _He looked up sharply to search my eyes and scowled, and then turned away. It dawned on me a bit too late that I may have misspoken but Edward simply shrugged and set out in a trot towards home. I followed silently, hoping he understood that I had not meant him at all.

His only reassurance, after we had reached home was a tight smile and a mumbled "I'll be right back," and he was out the door. As he did daily, when he climbed into his new Cadillac and sped down street, he was long gone before I could ask where he was off to. I was glad, even though a bit anxious, about his daily drives and chalked it up to his need to change his scenery every now and then. _Maybe, he has a girl he goes to see?_

I smiled broadly at the near impossibility of my thoughts and started to walk through the hallway to my room. Before I reached the door, I glanced around the living room and my gaze settled on the shiny black piano seated in the middle of the well-furnished room. _He has abandoned you for a girl, huh?_ I asked the object rhetorically. Edward's only girlfriend was his car. He often referred to his machine as a female and chatted about her like a newlywed man would do about his bride.

A real girl was undeniably the last thing on my son's mind. Besides the fact that it was not safe for any woman to get too close to him, Edward never showed an interest in any of the many who threw themselves at his feet. He thoroughly ignored all their subtle innuendos and kept a straight face. His pathetic father on the other hand, pined hopelessly for the love of a teenage human woman he was never likely to meet again.

It seemed as though I could feel my heart ache with the insistent yearning that could never be satisfied, and the pain of the finality of it was unabated no matter how secure I was in my decision. Leaving Esme was the hardest thing I had done in all of my years, and the pain of unrequited love haunted me almost daily.

She was a human girl, vivacious and intelligent with sky blue eyes that had danced periodically from my face to her badly torn leg and back again as I worked to quickly stitch the gaping wound close. Her shy smile and that little pink tongue that darted out to lick her lips when I was done treating her leg were seared in my memory forever. She held me captive in her warm, rounded beauty and could undoubtedly bring me to my knees.

I wondered once more if I could have waited just a few more years, until she was old enough to marry, and then – _and then what Carlisle Cullen? _ I sighed and headed back into my room. I closed the door gingerly and plopped into my dark brown recliner. For a moment, I understood the pain that brought George Brooks to his knees when he had learned about Elizabeth's death and even now, I understood the misery that shrouded him in his loss of Mary. Twice, death had laid its icy grips on the women he loved.

George mourned passionately and quite shamelessly after Mary's passing. The day after her burial, he moved back into town and removed the contents from her room in the boarding house where she used to stay into the small room he rented for himself in an inn nearby. He also insisted on inundating her grave with an obscene amount of flowers. Every morning, he would go to tend them and replace any that were withering with new blooms. Worst of all, he developed a drinking problem. He now spent most of his days in an intoxicated stupor.

Every saloon in town had to close its doors because George drank them out of whiskey. The only way to sate his desires would be for him to open his own distillery, and even that would not be enough for the mourning man. If they only knew what really distressed the man, they could sympathize with him better, could they not?

George refused any sympathy. He chose instead to frequent the brothels and bars in the town till he could barely stand upright. He would stagger through the streets every night complaining to any passer-by about how unfair his life was. I could hardly do more than offer medical advice and hope he did not take his own life.

The last time we spoke I had to give him the news, his face had fallen when I told him about my decision to quit Elizabeth's charge. He had begged me to reconsider my decision, claiming Elizabeth's letters were the only reason he still lived. _Such over-sentimental gibberish!_

The hospital was unusually quiet the night I saw him last. Several patients had been healing well and were discharged to spend the winter with their families. Moreover, it was a week to Christmas and unless it was absolutely necessary, doctors were reluctant to take cases lest they be called away from their families during the Yuletide. I stayed behind that night after my shift, to help with a rather complicated case.

The patient had been suffering from constant headaches, dizziness, chest pains and a persistent cough. I sighed when I realized there was nothing else to do for her. I decided to take a more purposeful whiff on my next intake of breathe and suddenly stiffened.

I smelled the blood first, and then later, the nasty odor of a man in need of a long bath, from many meters away. I bolted out of my seat at human pace and headed towards the fading scent of George Brooks. He lay motionless in the snow near my car with his arms wrapped around his chest acting as inadequate protection from the cold. As I got closer, I noticed he was hugging a metal box close to his chest and his once lush whitish hair was caked in dry mud and debris. His knuckles and elbows bled profusely and his right eye was nearly forced closed by a dark bruise.

I knelt beside him and listened to his heart beat flailing and stuttering. His pulse felt weak beneath his rapidly cooling and paling skin where I touched, at the base of his palm. His eyes were unfocused and flickered distractedly over me. He blinked rapidly after a moment and finally shoved the silver box at me. He raised his hands to signal that I bring my head closer to his face. He parted his lips very slightly to say something and I drew my head close to the weak words he spoke.

"Here, here are the Anthony Masen letters. Please Dr. Cullen, take them and don't give up on Elizabeth yet," he breathed.

I lifted my head and turned to look at the dying man. His lips were trying to smile and his eyes were slowly drifting shut. Thanking God silently for the darkness, I hauled him up into my arms and begun to run.

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_**How will Carlisle respond to a dying man's wish? **_

_Playlist: I'm Sorry – Flyleaf (Flyleaf)_

_ Out the Crib – Fedel (I Live)_

_ There for You – Flyleaf (Flyleaf)_

_I am mightily impressed with the "one twist in midair" werewolf transformation in the New Moon Official trailer. Great work Chris Weitz!_

_Coming Soon: __**Portraits**_


	10. GESTURE

_**A/N**__: Unbeta'd_

10. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR: **GESTURE

_**Carlisle**_

"A time to live and a time to die. . ."

Reverend St James was reciting a litany of prayers beside George Brooks's icy grave when I stepped into the darkness behind him. The thick forest adjoining the small cemetery hid me very well from the mourners assembled at the graveside though yesterday's blizzard ensured that, a thick fog also hung overhead casting the graveyard into a grizzled gloom. Even though the clergyman's voice was soft, his words rang loudly through the deathly silent shadows.

There were only a handful of people at the ceremony. Apart from Harry and his mother, a few natives had braved the cold and stepped out to join the mourners. I also noticed four strangers standing stiffly and well apart from one another. Three of them stood directly adjacent the priest as he spoke and wore very grim faces. They were all dressed in dark winter clothes and each carried a wreath of some sort.

The fourth and most notable stranger was a very well dressed gentleman in a long, dark blue woolen overcoat. He stood a few feet behind the group with his hands in his pockets and a hat over his head. He fidgeted impatiently with his silk necktie and kept peeking at his pocket watch. His eyes, when they looked up into the darkness where I lurked, were the same shocking blue as George's had been, jolting me to attention.

Closer inspection revealed an even more startling resemblance to the interred man. His face was shaped the same, with a wide forehead and square jaws and his cheeks were flushed in the same pink tint as George's face had when he smiled. He looked tall and slight but muscular all the same and his vaguely parted full lips made him look like an Adonis among the more regular looking bunch. Something about him reminded me of Edward but I could not name what.

Beside the slender form of the stranger, he bore no other visibly familiar traits with Edward. His skin was well tanned and shone healthily and he wore his hair long and braided at his nape. His locks were a shade more golden than the white blond of George Brooks's and they seemed to catch the scant sunlight from the top of his collar where they peeked out.

When he raised his hand to wipe a silky kerchief over his brow, a glint of ruby and gold flashed from his leather encased hand resembling the brooch pinned up high on his coat collar. I squinted to study the small pin at his lapel. _La Coeur de Lyon. _The simple engraved drawing of a lion's head over the French words was testimony to his obvious elite status.

I studied him closely for further clues to his lineage but was interrupted by Reverend St. James's inaccurate Latin. The ignorant priest spoke the jumbled sentences with extreme confidence over the simple coffin as it was lowered into the cold ground. When the wooden casket hit the bottom of the hole, he picked up the trowel beside him and threw some wet soil from it into the grave chanting, "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes," three times. The sound of the showering stones hitting the wood ricocheted through the quiet cemetery marring her peaceful exterior with their intensity.

The aging reverend recited another prayer from his Bible and passed his hand from his forehead to his chest and then from his left shoulder to the right. He traced the pattern of the cross airily over the open grave and lifted his head to his sparse congregation whispering, "_Requiscant in pasee_." I lifted a brow in disbelief, _was that __requiscat in pace, as in, may he rest in peace?_

_Yes, _I agreed, _may his soul rest in peace. _It was my sincerest wish for the naïve man who lay dead six feet under the earth now. Even though peace was a little lacking in my home, someone like George Brooks deserved it in eternal rest. Whereas this man had lived a short life mostly in sorrow, I was confident my son's stubborn streak would soon be forgotten and he would speak to me again. After all, we had an eternity to agree or disagree on this controversy.

Moreover, it was not as much a lack of peace in my home as it was a mild case of teenage rebellion or more truthfully speaking, an issue of adult insurgence that beset my family. Edward had not spoken a word to me for three whole days and I refused to relent from my judgment, thus the silence continued.

There was hardly a cause for the argument. The reason I agreed to relinquish Elizabeth's undertaking no longer held and I saw no need not to examine the document inside the silver box. Edward protested my decision vehemently claiming it would only leave a longer blood trail in its wake if we resumed the quest. I countered that easily with the reckoning that whosoever followed the trail of the letters was certain to end up at George Brooks's grave giving me the freedom to carefully plot a foolproof strategy to finish the task we were sent to accomplish.

_What are you so afraid of Edward? _ I asked. He had kept his face averted as he did before the disagreement begun, still looking through the window at the falling snow.

"If what this is all about is an inheritance for me, then do I not have a say in your grand scheme?"

_Obviously_

"Then my proposal still stands." He said, sitting on the stuffed bench below the window and turned to face me. "Please Carlisle, think about this carefully. If Anthony Masen's wealth is that renowned, wouldn't people like to know who eventually inherited it?"

"Remember son," I quickly responded, "Elizabeth did not say anything about an inheritance; that was all Brooks's idea. She spoke instead about some sort of charity for the truly deserving. If what is in the box would be of benefit to a great number of people, is it not worth the risk to ensure that the said people received their due?"

His shoulders slumped visibly, his raised brow sunk with his eyelids and he shook his head letting out a resigned sigh. When I was satisfied he had no answer for my question, I walked back into my study and picked up the tightly shut box once again. The small steel padlock at its edge clanged on the metal box when I shook it. It would be easy to pull the metal lock away and look into the box. Instead, I gave thought to my son's fears once more.

His reason for alarm amused me immensely. Though it was a good point that we avoided publicity of any kind, this needn't be a problem. I had already sought Harry out a week ago to enquire about acquiring new identities and he had assured me of a minimum two week wait to receive new credentials. It would be easy to claim the fortune and disappear soon after. Regardless, Edward made a good point and hence, the silvery iron box still lay unopened in my study.

It was a hard decision to make when I sat down to consider Elizabeth's and George's plea and my responsibility as a father. Any normal father would choose their son over anything else, would they not? However, Elizabeth had claimed emphatically in her letter that her peace depended on my acceptance to manage this treasure. She had stressed that the fortune was supposed to change the lives of the needy and would be wasted if any others obtained it. George Brooks had also stressed this fact and his loyalty to retrieving the Masen fortune ardently.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Edward and I were not a normal family, the only danger we faced in this quest was exposure and not death. If many people were to benefit from the Anthony Masen fortune, was it irresponsibility to disappoint a son who was perfectly capable of defending himself?

The problem was that I could not be certain of how capable Edward was of defending himself without spilling human blood or in his case, drinking from them. My faith in him was still unyielding but by now, I had learned the hard truth that it was much better to be cautious when considering him with humans.

Yet, George's dying face played constantly in my memory. His face was peaceful as I laid him on the hospital bed and tore his cold soggy clothes away from his body. Nurse Bertha had been very effective, carrying in a bundle of warm blankets and hot water bottles. She had cleaned his wounds meticulously and sponge bathed him carefully while I located some painkillers and injected them into his veins.

Sometime that night, he had woken up and laid a trembling hand on my arm as I waited by his bedside. His eyes were glazed over and his pupils dilated to adjust to the dim light in the hospital.

"Carlisle?" he'd whispered, "don't give up."

I tried to reassure him several times of my rededication to claiming the Anthony Masen treasure but he'd merely kept muttering "don't give up."

After a while, he had slumped back unto the bed and fallen asleep. His heartbeat was steady and his pulse seemed to be gaining strength when I left him to attend to a few other patients. By dawn when I returned to check on him, he had given up the ghost a couple of hours earlier.

I left Bertha to deal with his body and wheel him to the morgue. When Dr. Jeffery took over in the morning, I tucked the metal box in my brown bag and headed home to meet my disapproving son already waiting for me at the door.

Again, I was joggled out of my musings by a jumble of incorrect Latin phrases. "Engus Die vomiscum. . . et cum spiritutus." It was a hopeless case for the poor priest _in toto _then. I smiled at his pathetic attempt at the Latin translation of the Lord's Prayer as I only understood the first two words, _Pater Noster _as Our Father, and nothing else after that. When he finally whispered, "Amen," I was immensely grateful for the end of the service.

A collective sigh rang through the small group of mourners who quickly assembled around the vicar to thank him for conducting the ceremony and lay their flowery wreaths beside the grave. I watched as Harry went to George's twin and embraced him warmly. The stranger seemed very delighted to meet the Scotts and extended his arms to engulf the plump woman in a bear hug. She passed a bare hand over his cheeks and smiled adoringly at him whispering, "How are you, my son?"

The near Adonis whispered, "I am doing very well thank you, ma chère tante," in a heavy French accent and lifted his left hand to pat hers. The large ruby signet gleamed again and I could see the rim of the emblem on his chest minutely sculptured around the ring. His fretting aunt tugged at his shirt collar and pulled on his hair. The Parisian gentleman laughed softly, threw one last long gaze at the grave and turned to tuck Mrs. Scott's arms around his before he led the duo away from the grassy graveyard to the front of the chapel.

I walked hastily out of the shadows to greet the vicar and proceeded to extend my condolence to the Scotts. Mrs. Scott's face lit up when she saw me and grabbed me into a tight hug.

"Come doctor, meet my nephew from France, Philip," she said, motioning to the young stranger who was engaged in deep conversation with Harry. "Philip?" she called out causing the man to raise his head, "You have to meet our wonderful doctor."

He extended his hand to shake mine and smiled courteously. "It is my pleasure to meet you Doctor."

Mrs. Scott excited slipped her arm around Philip's waist and looked up into his face saying, "The good doctor is a general physician in our little town hospital and he is the very best too. He healed Harry's leg when the war nearly it cut off. You remember that time, don't you, Précieux?"

"Certainly," he said to his aunt and turned to shake my hand again, "My sincerest thanks to you for saving my cousin's life."

Before I could murmur an appropriate reply, he spoke again. "I am Philip Masen and you are?"

"Carlisle Cullen," I murmured, my eyes wide with shock.

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'_La Coeur de Lyon' _is French for Lion heart.

The right phrase for _'Engus Die vomiscum'_ is **Angus Die vobiscum**, meaning 'Lamb of God be with you'. Better still, _**Deus vobiscum**_ means 'God be with you'. _'Et cum spiritutus' _should be _**Et cum Spiritutum **_means_** '**_and also with your spirit'. Again, no religious offence is intended in this chapter, Carlisle just needed to pay better attention at the funeral.

_**In toto**_ means completely.

_Playlist: Forgiven – __**Relient K**__ (WOW Hits 2008 Disc 2) So that I could live – __**Lindy Freeland**__ Breaking – __**Anberlin **__(New Surrender)_

_I'll be away in London for two weeks and I am not sure how often I can update from there but I will respond to reviews immediately I settle down so please __**REVIEW, REVIEW, and REVIEW**__!! _


	11. ANCESTOR

_**For findthewill**_

_My profound thanks to Slovesemmett for her great beta skills._

_Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**_

11. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR**: ANCESTOR

_**Carlisle**_

This was the best acquiescence I could hope for and I was exceedingly grateful for it. Knowing that I was not about to ignore any peace offering Edward extended, I tried my very hardest to avoid thinking about the young man sitting across from me in my study gently fiddling with the litigious silver box. If this was his way of expressing acceptance of this situation, then it was acceptable to me.

I couldn't help peeking up at him though. He was lounging on the sofa across from the low center table which was laden with ancient books and scrolls. His eyes were intent on the object of his fascination; his jaw was set and his lips thinned. He squinted at the box and pushed lightly at the lid. The metal dented inwardly to fit the contours of his thumb and he frowned.

I yearned to ask the reason for this surprising visit, but I held my tongue and tried to focus again on my tasks. _Whenever you are ready Edward, I'll be listening. _He shrugged as he had done to everything I had said over the last week or so and returned to his silent investigation of the plain steel box. _I suppose tensions have still not eased then_, I sighed. Oh well, it was a delight that he had chosen to spend some time with me, even if it was sitting in relative silence.

We had been snowed in by an angry blizzard that struck about two days ago, and as I was unable to attend the hospital without raising suspicion, I had settled in my library and begun rummaging through files and records for any suggestions about the heritage of the intriguing noble man, Philip Masen. A map of France and its provinces lay alongside a list of noble families governing them. They were spread before me as I waited for the weather to improve, listening for the end of the storm that raged outside.

Several hours later, a surprisingly soft rap at the door roused me from my studies. My son walked in after I affirmatively acknowledged his knock, spotting a beige cardigan over a white shirt and a pair of pressed brown pants. His hair seemed to have been combed and an attempt made to force it into some submission but that was to no avail, and he still held his dark leather gloves in his right hand. I wondered immediately where he was going but he only smiled tightly and shrugged. He sat, shifted a book away, and lifted the silver box up into his hands.

His brows were creased now, drawing his forehead into a wrinkle of intense concentration while his little finger kept looping through the steel ring that secured the package. Once in a while, he'd raise his left hand to drag through his hair and almost immediately pull it back, opting it seemed, to tug at his collar instead. His eyes danced around curiously but his lips remained stubbornly pressed together. So I silently returned to my tasks, choosing to ignore him until he was ready to speak, reading through a genealogical atlas of Napoleon Bonaparte and listening to the weather.

The storm must have passed because I could no longer hear the loud ruckus it made overhead. I listened closely and heard the faint crackling from the roof above, which could only mean that the sun had finally come out. _How long has it been_, I wondered and stood up to draw the curtains away from the window, "Oh!" I gasped, staring out at the little yard facing our white house. The half meter high snow had completely vanished and the previously snow covered cars gleamed in the thin light of day. It was still overcast though and I briefly considered going to the hospital. _How long has it been? _ I asked again.

Edward chuckled softly at my confusion and answered my unspoken question, "Almost a week."

The sound of his voice jolted me and I turned around wordlessly to look at him. He shrugged again to answer another subconscious inquiry and turned back to continue tugging on the metal lock of his fixation. He could break it easily, in fact, if he tugged just a tad harder, the metal would give. Hearing my thoughts, he resisted my persuasion and quickly set the box back on the table. I had imagined him pulling it away and lifting the lid. _He would peer into it and what would we find?_

Over the many nights I had sat in the study with the box of contention set on the mahogany table, I knew without a doubt, from constantly shaking it that, it contained documents. Apart from the shuffling of papers though, I also realized sometime in my staunch obsession that the metal lock was not the only object that clanked against the silver box. Sometimes, I could hear a faint thud within the box and by now, I was even more eager to open it than the apparently inquisitive young man behind me.

It was a great difficulty to ignore the box all this while, really, I noted with discomfort that it seemed to taunt my valor daily. In its depths, I was persuaded that there were answers to some of the unending questions that had arisen in pursuance of Elizabeth's treasure and yet, my hands seemed lethargic anytime I picked it up. I could not understand my own reluctance, and I reasoned that it was either because I actually could not summon the bravado to face its contents or because I chose not to disappoint my son. Either reason could be valid as I did strive to be a better parent, and truthfully, my interest in the Anthony Masen letters had grown slightly daunting after Philip's sudden appearance.

His familiarity with the Scotts mystified me greatly and the fact that he called Harry cousin, just like George had implied, must mean then that the dead man used to be a part of his family. _Which part_? I found myself wondering.

The little I had gathered from Elizabeth before her disease intensified was that she had moved from Boston, Massachusetts to the Gold Coast in Chicago when she married Edward Sr. The first Edward Masen had come to study at the University and decided to visit a relative in the suburb where they met. She had smiled fleetingly at her memories and dabbed again at her son's sweaty forehead. Her eyes filled with tears in the brief moment she took to mourn her husband's passing before hardening again, strengthening her determination to attend to her son.

_Boston, Massachusetts. Why had I not thought to look there? _I walked back to my desk and started digging for any information I could find on the Masens of Boston only to find I had no such documents. I sighed in resignation and walked back to stand before the large window again. A slight shuffle alerted me to my son's exit and a moment later he pulled out of the driveway in his Cadillac. _Out for your ride as usual?_ I knew better than to expect an answer but I still hoped for a sign.

The sun had been down for nearly an hour before Edward returned. The last I heard from him was the click of his door and that had been another hour ago. I had been standing here for half the day now and though it was not uncomfortable, it was time to reorganize the files around me and return them to their shelves. Just as I was about to turn away, a man walking briskly to our front door caught my attention. I saw that it was Harry and dashed quickly to the door to let him in out of the chilly night. He thanked me with a wide smile as he stepped into the living room. After he had hung his shawl on the coat rack beside the door, he lifted his head and his eyes twinkled when he saw my son.

Edward was squatting beside a freshly lit, apparently warming his hands over the flames. When we walked into the center of the room, he stood and turned to watch us approach. I tried to lead Harry to the seat closest to the heat but he seemed more interested in meeting my son. Before I could speak the necessary introductions, he walked straight toward Edward and held a hand out.

"Hello, I am Harry Scott, you must be Doctor Cullen's nephew?" he said with a smile stretched across his face. Edward confidently shook his hands and murmured, "Yes, Edward Cullen, nice to meet you."

I was glad to see the vampire showed no discomfort or reservations while meeting our guest and projected that it was because he must have read some good in his thoughts. He seemed so at ease while he exchanged Christmas wishes with Harry that they both could have passed for old friends. During the pleasantries, Harry shoved a small basket into Edward's chest and winked, "Dr. Cullen here never eats so if you really intend to spend a merry Christmas, you might want to start with those. My ma made them for you herself."

Edward lifted a brow momentarily and then laughed heartily showing as little teeth as possible. He took the basket from Harry and thanked him before disappearing into – was that the study door? When the human turned back to me, his jovial tone had disappeared and with a polite nod he murmured, "Merry Christmas, Dr. Cullen."

"And a Merry Christmas to you too," I responded with a short bob of my head still gesturing to the sofa beside the hearth. He also nodded once and walked over to take the seat I offered, nervously wringing his mittens in his lap and looking down as he sat. Clearly, he was uncomfortable in my presence and I did not fault him much. Ever since George Brooks's death, our previously friendly association had deteriorated into merely a civil alliance.

His reluctance to be close by did not surprise me, not after what we had both witnessed. Two scandalous and sudden deaths of people who were once his associates were bound to leave him a little bewildered and I could read from his face that he worried about my safety. I spun in my seat to stare at him till he lifted his head and held my gaze. I didn't need Edward to know that fear and apprehension that battled in his head. Sweat poured from his forehead and he swiped his mitten across his face to wipe it away. His bottom lip quivered and his hands shook. He averted his gaze and whispered,

"Please Dr. Cullen, do you know where George had been before his death?"

I decided to stay as honest as possible while answering his questions, "New York, to fetch the letters."

He shuddered and pursed his lips tightly to still their trembling. I waited patiently for him to regain his composure and continue. After a while, he went on to describe his recurring nightmares and fears for his life claiming the enemy was always within. I listened with great sympathy for the man. Harry was a good man even if the people he dealt with had questionable character – like me.

"Philip insisted he was in New Hampshire taking care of his grandfather's business with the University the week George died," he said in hushed tones again, still looking away. "But old friends of mine swore they saw him in Rochester, New York, two days before George died."

Well, well, we were on to conspiracy theories now. Two and two together suggested Philip must know then what had caused his brother's death – _brother? _

"What has Philip got to do with George?" I asked, feigning ignorance. Despite the similarity of their physical features, which suggested that they were related, both brothers were as divergent as day was from night. George seemed naïve and carefree, whereas Philip looked intimidating and confident.

"Philip is George's younger brother," Harry shrugged.

_There you go Cullen, your first suspicion has been confirmed. Now ask for their relationship to Anthony Masen. _

"Anthony Masen was their grandfather," Harry answered, avoiding my eyes.

The ensuing silence was deafening. The man looked away sheepishly and returned to squeezing the yarn from his mitten. _Edward, are you listening?_ I asked,and I was rewarded this time with the soft squeak of a recently vacated chair – a sign.

I shook my head, assured that I had Edward's undivided attention, and asked, "Are there anymore lies to clarify?"

"I am so sorry Dr. Cullen, it was not my place to explain anything to you. Philip's family is –" He shook his head and shifted to sit at the edge of his seat. I simply nodded in false understanding and turned my face down a while. "Besides, I am not very well informed about any of this. I merely know that the entire family is in chaos, all of them are waiting to hear from the chosen heir."

_Chosen heir, why does everybody think this is a race for Anthony Masen's legacy? _

"When George said Mrs. Elizabeth had chosen you to claim the estate, I couldn't have been happier. You are a very kind man."

"Thank you," I whispered. "How much is Mr. Masen's estate worth?"It was an unavoidable question, one for whose answer I dreaded. But then again, curiosity killed the cat and since George was not here to respond, I hoped Harry could. He sighed loudly and settled back into the sofa.

"Anthony Masen was a cunning businessman who had invested his own father's proceeds from the gold rush intelligently. Once he understood how to turn a profit on his first store, he managed to buy all the other businesses around him and soon enough, he had a monopoly. Shortly after that, he had extended his operations from local businesses into real estates, shipping and other international endeavors. Before long, he had found various openings in the diamond trade, investing in big city buildings and funding some of inventions. Nobody knows exactly how much he was worth; he ran every business separately."

"But obviously Philip benefited from a portion of this wealth?"

"Not necessarily. Philip chose to stay in Paris when their father sent them abroad to study. My father simply convinced Anthony Masen to put Philip in charge of the businesses in France because he was already there, that doesn't make him heir."

_Hmm, but his 'La Coeur de Lyon' ring seems to suggest a more authoritative position than that of an overseer._

"But if he did not leave any of these for his own grandchildren, why did he leave it for Elizabeth then? I still cannot understand why."

"Maybe he had thought Edward Jr. would grow to become a fresh face for the family millions?" I couldn't help smiling at the assumption. Edward would have done an excellent job of it. His angelic face, immaculate with a hint of determination in his set jaws would have been a million dollar face alright.

Harry smiled back at me though his eyes narrowed in query, choosing to continue with his explanation.

"All of Mr. Masen's kin knew about the patriarch's wealth and were very spoiled because of it. Edward Senior, on the other hand, disregarded his father's wealth and banned his family from his home. Young Edward would not have known about Mr. Masen's kind of affluence until he was old enough to understand the responsibility that accompanied it."

I nodded in real understanding this time, making a mental note to open the silver box immediately after Harry left. _Nobody could better explain Anthony's intentions than Anthony himself._

"You spoke about your father earlier?" I asked. "Was he also a Masen?"

"No, he simply works for the Masens. My mother on the other hand is George's mother's sister."

That explained why Mrs. Scott had referred to her Philip as her nephew. It could also be the reason why Harry had known where to find George when we sought him out then and also the same reason why William Crest had connected the two men. _What, had I missed something? I thought Mr. Scott died when Harry was young._

"Did you say he simply works for the Masens?" I asked. "I thought your father was dead," my voice dipped with my confusion. I shook my head and sighed, wondering how many more lies they may have told.

"It's a common perception Doctor. Many people think my mother and I moved to Ashland after she became widowed but we needed to be separated from my father to protect him and keep an eye on George as well."

It was just was well, I presumed. The danger with Anthony Masen's fortune had become quite tangible and it was better for the Scotts to be apart if the young man's father had been involved with Mr. Masen while he was still alive.

"How does your father work for the Masens?" I implored, seeking further explanation.

"He is in charge of all the Masen assets until an heir is found or until Mr. Masen's lawyers name one."

"Well, does he know then that Elizabeth has tasked us to claim Anthony Masen's fortune?"

"Of course Dr. Cullen, he handed you Elizabeth's letter himself."

"William Crest found me –" It took a moment to settle in.

Harry nodded and smiled, "William Crest or Jeremiah Jenkins Scott, they all are one and the same."

_Ah, now the plot thickens_.

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Playlist: _Song Title_ – Artist _[Album]_

_Unfinished Memories_ – Eowyn _[Silent Screams]_

_Boys (Lesson One) _– Jars of Clay _[The Long Fall Back To Earth]_

_Puedo Escribir_ –Sixpence None the Richer _[Sixpence None the Richer]_

~.~

**A/N**: _Again, thank you S, you are an amazing woman. _

_Thanks to Phil and Mattie who made it a point to cheer me up on all those bleak days over on the twilighted thread. I enjoyed reading your favorite one liners from The Unlikely Heir._

_I am so sorry for the delayed update. If you have been on __**The Unlikely Heir**__ thread on **twilighted** .**net** __or on my __**Livejournal **__page (links on my profile), then you know it was an unavoidable situation that demanded all my time. I can't begin to say how glad I am that it's all over now!!_

_Also, the __**Indie Twific Awards**__ (link on profile) are accepting nominations for categories such as Best Canon story, Most Original storyline, Best Characterization (Non Edward/ Bella), Best Pairing (Non Edward x Bella) and many more. Go on and nominate your favorite barely known story, like this one! *winkwinkcoughloudclearingofthroat*_

_So, send me your favorite line from the story. Mine is..._


	12. APETURE

_Here is to old alliances, new acquaintances and reassurances._

12. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR:** APERTURE

_**Edward**_

The sprawling forest surrounding the large compound was dense enough to hide me in my silent surveillance. As always, I simply sat in my car and stared. Today though, it just didn't feel right to be here; this little escape I had come to every day for the past fortnight. Today, I felt like a prisoner with my heart bound in guilt. I sighed and groaned softly, but the persistent heaviness I felt refused to lift as I stared unseeingly through the bald trees at the school only a few meters ahead.

It was an ordinary enough looking building. Bricks, wood and a bell tower to summon its populace to attend their required lessons, hardly classified it as exclusive. Yet, it was not the mundane shell that held the seemingly unattainable desire for me to step out of my little hideout and partake in its daily schedule. Within its depths, boys came and went as they completed the requirements for the fulfillment of their education and I yearned to experience that sense of meaning along with them.

Life in our home, and at the little waterfall in the forest where I had hidden for nearly a year, lacked that sense of efficacy. It was void and endless, with no plan or duty, and it caused me a greater envy for those boys – most of whom were my peers. They innocently walked across the yard in their neat uniforms, mere meters away from a vampire and I cringed at the possibility of one of them falling and bruising his knees. This unworthy beast I had become, feared its baser instincts and its craving for human blood disgusted me.

Of course, my reason for heeding the pull of the school in the first place was in no way aligned with the actual function of the structure, or the collective reason why many humans patronized it. I needed no formal education when I had a tutor that could surpass any of their meager geniuses and easy access to more books than they could ever dream possible under my own roof. I had better vision, hearing and a perfect memory; there was nothing for me to gain, scholastically at least, by enrolling at the boys' college.

Except that, it was tempting to imagine spending some part of immortality doing something other than tediously seeking a distraction from the constant boredom I felt when I was not reading Carlisle's books or playing my piano for hours on end.

It was not a new notion; Carlisle had attended medical school. He had been able to resist the temptation of their blood and even gone on to become a doctor. _Maybe, it is not as hard as it seems_, I mused, but the dry ache in my throat belied that thought. I was nothing like Carlisle and I knew I could never master that kind of courage and control. I ran my hand through my hair and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. My hopes of stepping out today had dissipated, and all I could do now was turn my car around and head back.

I could never be like Carlisle. His phenomenal control was legendary and though I could fight through the days to resist, a part of me recognized my constant desire to taste the sweet, red, nectar of human blood again. As I drove towards home, my mind drifted back to my thwarted plans for the day.

Courage had failed me yet again and my imagination was my only reserve. I had convinced myself that I could walk through the halls at the college and find pleasure in a random professor's lecture. No matter how misguided or substandard the lecture was guaranteed to be, it would have been a welcome prospect if only I could find the will.

My father did his best to keep me entertained and during nights before this deadlock had began, the doctor had dedicated all his spare time to addressing my need for knowledge. We mostly spoke about medicine, but because his years and experience afforded him wisdom in all aspects of life, the topics became more and more diverse. As our nightly discussions progressed, it had become his habit to chuckle at human oversights and fallacies. I smiled bitterly as the memory of his laughter rang through my mind and lowered my head in shame.

Admittedly, there was no longer a need to keep up my angry pretense with him. This fact had been made clear as day to me, when he walked through the front door at home, absentmindedly equating me with Philip Masen. Without much effort, I had become quite curious as well about the ruby brooch and the blatant manner in which the human flaunted his wealth. Therefore, it would have been the right course of action, to approach my father and bring a halt to my obstinacy, but a twinge of pride had caused me to hold back this intelligence, leading him to his study while drawing me back to my foolishness.

Carlisle's brief meeting with Philip Masen had taken quite a toll on him. Prior to this morning, he had remained cooped up in his study for the entire week, perusing maps, scrolls of history and books that looked like they had not been opened in the last century, trying to find Philip Masen's ancestry. I silently marveled at his determination, but kept the truth that Mother had given me a similar pin with the same words carved beneath it, hidden in my head and in my closet. Again, pride took the blame for my inability to admit my mistakes and make amends.

In my defense, I argued that it was wiser to keep the ornament hidden, as the facts I gathered from Carlisle's mind suggested Philip Masen was a haughty and ruthless individual. His likes appalled me greatly and I did not want to be associated in any way with such as his kind. The human character formed in Carlisle's mind seemed like he cared only about the protection of his family's good image and untarnished name. His cold eyes suggested that, he was one who relied on his wealth and authority to garner respect. I imagined him as a wicked landlord who cared nothing for his poor and struggling tenants save for his returns at the end of the day.

We were by no means a poor family. Even before I became a vampire, I had never known a day of poverty. Carlisle was considered one of the best physicians in Ashland, and this belief probably extended throughout the whole of Wisconsin, so he was very well paid. His skill, coupled with his kindness and patience, made gratitude for his work more prevalent here than the reported death rate from the war.

Inevitably, this appreciation for the Dr. Cullen's abilities had translated into unnecessary visits to the house. Especially during this holiday season, gift bearing well-wishers, mostly poor mothers and widows, had offered the little they could in thanks for one kind gesture or the other.

Carlisle accepted their offerings heartily, no matter how meager, and sent them away. However, we were once forced to eat a morsel of food to placate a doubting mother and ever since, I had politely asked to be excused from meeting any more of his patients when they came by.

Gradually, it seemed we had lost the purpose behind our decision to move here. We had come to Ashland with the intention of finding a man and picking up a couple of letters. After four deaths, an intriguing stranger, a silver box and a two-week spell of teenage rebellion, we were still unwise about this adventure my mother had sent us on.

I could not blame her now for her warnings. As was true, my supposed human family turned out to be a bunch of ravenous leeches that infuriated me to no end. Even more than Carlisle was aware of, the embarrassment that rose within me every time I learned about another one more of their schemes had risen to levels I swore I could no longer contain. Simply, the reason I was opposed to opening the 'precious' box was because I was convinced it housed even more evidence of their vile effrontery. I was ashamed of their brazen audacity, greed and cruelty. _Evil men! _I thought,_ beside them, the devil could look like a saint_.

Yet, my father was unwaveringly set on opening the abominable box and shaming me further. It was improbable that Anthony Masen had been any better than his heirs, if the reason I had been led to believe I had no family other than my parents while I was human was because of him, I quivered to think about what his wishes were bound to contain in his missives.

Nothing I explained to Carlisle seemed to sway his resolution to open the box, and considering the way events had aligned in the past week, there was little doubt that one of these days, the inevitably scarlet sins of my mortal kin were certain to be spilled with one tug of that flimsy metal lock.

The metal had seemed cool even to me this morning, when I picked the box up from the table where it had remained untouched for the past week. As the inquisitive doctor immersed deeper in his distractive obsession with finding my arrogant cousin's heritage, he had stopped shaking the box and left it to cool on the mahogany desk.

I had picked it up as though I needed confirmation of what I had heard several times in my father's head every time he shook the metal package. I also shook it when after close inspection, nothing hinted at its contents from its bland encasing. I came up to the conclusion that, he was right.

There seemed to be an object other than the letters within the silvery metal box and my interest or supposed lack thereof, had threatened to slip then and there. I steeled my jaw and set the abomination back in its place, but not before I slipped from my other resolve and spoke an audible answer to Carlisle's question.

His shock mirrored mine in the long moment he turned to stare at me. I saw my face harden into a determined frown in his mind, and no matter how hard I tried to rearrange my expression to suit one of dispassion, I simply kept failing. It had been childish to ignore him all this while. After all, adults would simply have spoken about the matter calmly and arrived at a logical compromise. I had proved my immaturity with fear that my own words would be heated and my ability to stay calm, perturbed, if I attempted to speak with him. It seemed a better option then, to simply hold my thoughts, my emotions and my words in a tight shell whenever I was in his presence.

When he had finally surfaced from his daze and silently asked if I had reconsidered my previous position, the coward in me had risen and clogged my throat. Pride had supported this lack of courage and I had returned to the safety of my gutless lair. I shrugged like it meant nothing to me when what I had really wanted to do, was to compromise and reconcile with the man who thought of me with nothing but affection and pride. That need, for the resolution to this standoff, had been my intention when I knocked at his door this morning, on my way to indulge in observing the experience I was sorely craving for.

Just like I hadn't been able to speak the words that would have set the contention between my father and I apart, I hadn't been able to step through the wooden doors today, even though I was appropriately dressed and the sun was low. It would have been nearly impossible for any of the other boys to suspect my intrusion without careful examination. The rooms were fairly dark and their numbers were quite large. Even if anyone had so much as nursed a stray idea about me, it would have taken a mere second for me to disappear and never return.

All my plans had failed today and sighing again with resignation, I turned on that final corner towards my home. Musing about the extensive and differing gulfs our worlds were never likely to breach, I hang my coat on the rack when I reached the foyer and I stole a glimpse at the piano sitting in the middle of the living room.

I was disheartened with the day and a spot of music could help soothe me, but I decided against it and walked into my room to wallow in my depression. Maybe if I had waited a little longer, I could have sat through their usually sparsely attended daily dusk service again, learned a thing or two and made my father proud.

Carlisle would most certainly have been proud to know that I had managed to attend church service at the boys' boarding school two days ago, without his persuasion. He would have been proud if only he had known, but since the coward in me never responded when he asked about my daily drives, it was very possible that he would never know. Even before I had stubbornly decided to ignore him, courage had failed me yet again in my need to ask his advice on my fixation.

I lounged lethargically in my overstuffed chaise, all this while refusing to make a move and put my newly acquired, albeit stolen uniform away for another chance tomorrow. It was barely an hour later, when I caught the voice of the tense thoughts of a man approaching the house. As usual, an eager patient bearing a basket of human baked goods, trembling with every step and yet anxious to present his modest well wishes to Dr. Cullen, had innocently intruded on my peaceful evening.

_Oh, Harry!_ I heard the suddenly concerned mental voice of the vampire in the library above my room, call out, and he hastened downstairs to await the arrival of his visitor. _So, Harry has finally decided to visit us,_ I thought, quickly pushing myself off the chair and heading into the living room to satisfy my curiosity and start a fire. The flames quickly devoured the dry wood I piled into the large hearth and cast dancing shadows in shades of orange and grey on the walls around the living room.

Harry's thoughts were a jumble of shame and regret as he stepped through the front door with Carlisle into the warming chamber, and I simultaneously felt and heard his relief and excitement when he saw me bent near the fire.

_Oh, the doctor's nephew is home today, _his excited thoughts noted.

_I wonder where he has been all this while. Maybe, he has to attend school at the boys' boarding house. His clothes look just like their uniform._ I smiled inwardly at my failure to change my clothes, and with a small smile, turned to greet Carlisle's visitor. I was slightly perplexed, but glad to see the once nervous man at ease.

His thoughts were full of awe at my inhuman appearance and hopeful that I could be a sort of buffer between him and his apparent unease with facing the doctor. I laughed gently, careful not to frighten him, when he laughed at his own inane jokes. In his thoughts, I seemed more jovial and less daunting than my father, and laughed more at the turnabout nature of the situation. He seemed pleased by my 'encouragement' and kept at his small talk up a while longer than was usually acceptable.

When it could no longer be avoided, I accepted his hardly filled basket with a smile and headed to the kitchen to place the food on a dry surface in our useless kitchen. Muffins, I supposed, could stay put a day longer than a lot of the other cakes we had received. _Maybe Carlisle will hand them out to the sick children at the hospital tomorrow._ I dashed to my room to pick up my pin and headed back into his study to inevitably listen to Harry's best wishes for the Cullen family this Christmas.

He faltered at first and his heart thumped erratically, but sooner than I expected, he calmed down and gathered the courage to say the merry words. The pair in the living room amused me with their misconceptions. The discomfiture between them only thickened because they were needlessly cautious of each other, and I laughed quietly from my place in the study while I fingered the latch on the silver box.

My father blamed himself for a nonexistent rift that he thought had developed from the mystery surrounding George Brooks's untimely demise, while Harry fought for the appropriate words to begin his confessions. Of course, he blamed his dead cousin for the most part, but he somehow managed to spill the truth as he thought about his father.

He winced with the memory of the pain he had suffered from the wounds he had sustained after an earlier miscalculation and I scoffed at his mental insistence that, they were still battle wounds even though they had not been inflicted in a battle and there was really no need to tell the doctor who had healed the painful fissures, how close he had himself come to an unmarked grave for this cause that we all relentlessly pursued – the Anthony Masen letters.

His words shocked Carlisle and when my father implored me to pay closer attention their conversation; I yielded and gave him what I had denied him earlier this afternoon – a sign. The nearly inaudible creak of the wooden chair as I stood up, was all he the reassurance he needed and for me, it was a confirmation of my willingness to end my idiocy.

I was still looking out through the window in the dark room, when I saw the visibly relieved human walk out into the cold air again. His aura mimicked mine to an extent. As I considered his words, and his sincere happiness that Mother had decided to bequeath her unfulfilled quest to Carlisle, my mind was appeased from its earlier worries about the nature of my grandfather's requests.

He walked away quickly, but just before he rounded the corner at the end of the street, he turned to look up through the study windows. I smiled at his hope to catch another glimpse of his 'new friend' and reached into my pocket to finger the bauble I had kept secret for too long.

My own hope, as I turned towards the door to greet my father with a smile, was that I had not been wrong to trust Harry's sincere assessment of grandpa Masen's intentions. Carlisle smiled back and quietly sat in the seat I gestured at. His thoughts were patient and though words eluded me then, I sought to convey my intention for reconciliation to him as I placed the silver box between us. He understood my remorse and murmured his own apology to me as well. I nodded in acceptance, discarding every trace of my previous demeanor in this moment of consensus.

I reached into my pocket then, and removed the small cotton sack where my pin had been carefully stored ever since my mother handed it to me many years ago. I removed the sparkling La Coeur de Lyon diamond, about three times the size I had seen from Carlisle's memories of Philip's own pin, and placed it beside the box on the desk between us. Trying hard to ignore his shocked thoughts, I pulled in a needless breath, grasped the lock on the 'contentious' metal box, and deftly pulled it away.

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Playlist:

The King's Garden – Falling Up (Fangs)

Wait – Carried Away (No Compromise)

Rebirthing – Skillet (Comatose)

_**A/N**__: As usual, my thanks go to __**Slovesemmett**__, for taking the time to beta this baby, __**ur_only_male_reader**__, for the last minute editing skills and __**cfmom**__, for the priceless advice! __Special thanks also go to all the doctors at the __**Kent and Canterbury Hospital **__for saving my son's life! I know this is the 2 billionth time I am saying this, but what mother wouldn't be grateful?_

_How's that for this chapter? Edward opened the box himself! _

_The Unlikely Heir was officially nominated for four categories in the Indies Twific Awards on Sunday. _

Best Canon WIP (Work In Progress)

Best Characterizations (Non Edward/Bella) WIP

Best Non ExB Story Line WIP

Most Original Story Line WIP

_I want to thank all of you for the nomination. It brings me so much joy that you consider this story one worthy of an award._


	13. RAPTURE

_"__Maturity is the capacity to endure uncertainty" – John Finley._

_**For Alex**_

_A million thanks to you, __**findthewill**__, for making me think again on this one, and also__ to my incredible beta, __**S**__, because you are such a DIVA and you spoil me way too much!_

_Thanks to you too, __**Lisa**__, that pep talk unblocked this chapter! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ All recognizable characters, plots and articles belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. _

13. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR: **RAPTURE

_**Carlisle**_

Our home was filled with peace and happiness once again. Edward was playing the piano with passion and merriment, while I stood underneath the shed behind the house, leaning against an old water barrel, and looking out over the red and grey stained horizon. I tugged at my silk necktie to loosen it some, removed the leather gloves I usually wore to cover my icy hands, and slipped them into my pants' pockets. Then, I set out to stroll along the snow covered trail behind our home. The hours were filling quickly and soon, my son and I would be on our way to the mysterious destination he had proposed last night.

A tree stump stood before me, just off the side of the trail, and I sank unto its damp surface. The usually lush forest had been ripped bare by winter's icy hands, her trees were petrified in transitory death and her once secretive depths were now laid open before me.

I sighed as memories of the night before seeped through and clouded my mind. The vivid playback of Edward's brilliant smile, his golden eyes coming alight with joy when I agreed to go with him on the trip today, intercepted me. He had not said much about his agenda when he asked for my companionship, but he had asked that I trust him, and I assured him I trusted him completely.

_Why is this trip a surprise?_ I quirked my right brow in question as I leaned against the pillar in the corner of the room, near the window, and watched him.

He laughed lightly and shook his head. I frowned at the lack of information. Quickly, he assured me that it would be for my utmost pleasure as well so, I yielded.

_I'll go with you anyway._

"No questions asked?" he queried, standing abruptly from the recliner in the opposite corner and dashing over to me with wide searching eyes. There seemed to be aptness to this journey for him, and his zeal could not be missed.

"None at all," I whispered in reassurance. It was more than a pleasure to be factored into his plans for the coming day, and the good father I strove to be, was all too willing to share in his obvious elation. Besides, I had become quite intrigued by the different possible scenarios that ran through my mind every day he drove away, and I was ready to confirm my theories.

Despite the fact that his surprises mere hours before had been unexpected, I was quite sure I knew where we were headed on Edward's little trip. He laughed out louder than I had heard him do since he mocked me about the atonement of vampire sins and I smiled in response to his happiness. _It's good to see you come back to life,_ I thought, but his guttural gurgle abruptly died down and he returned to the recliner.

_Is there a problem? _ I was suddenly worried. _Did I say something?_

He shook his head and whispered, "No, nothing."

I glanced over at the tormented young man, with his eyes narrowed in pain, and his lips thinned in agony, he looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I sighed and turned to look out the window. I had come to meet Edward waiting in the study, with a tremulous smile playing around his lips. His unsure hands, as they gestured towards the seat behind the desk, and his pleading eyes as he set the metal box before me, had spoken of one thing – regret. I had understood his silent act of contrition and my own guilt had risen. My apology, even to me, had seemed an inadequate response to his as I watched him pull the flimsy lock away from the controversial box.

In light of my refusal to learn the reason behind his stance against the box, and compromise with him during the time of our deadlock, I felt I was also due a reproof. I had no appropriate yardstick by which to measure a good father, but it felt like a failure to me that I had not made an effort to bring a halt to the impasse between us earlier. Every inclination of mine had been to wait for Edward to come to a realization about his infantile behavior and apologize – which was an erroneous notion indeed. It had been my responsibility to offer a solution to our stalemate, and yet, I had been too immersed in my obsession to father my son sufficiently.

Whereas I had been the more juvenile of us two, as I mused in retrospect at my approach to the appropriate manner with which to settle the matter, Edward had shown a more mature composure when he finally laid his qualms aside and took charge of the situation. I suspected that it was Harry's short visit, and something he likely read from his mind, that brought about the change in his decision, causing him to solve the escalating quandary practically and respectfully. And in that moment, I noticed how much he seemed to have matured more, and I was proud of him.

If nothing at all, his courage in attempting to reconcile our differences was a big step towards his maturity. He had to relinqush his pride to confront the uncertainty that lay within the box. In his bid to achieve an agreement between us, he had earned my respect, pride and faith completely.

He had not been obliged by any force to open it, but he had made the bold effort as a peace offering to get past our divergent arguments – and maybe, for my sake. Even more overwhelming, was the knowledge that he trusted me enough to ask me to meet whomever he had been meeting for the past few weeks. All the signs I had hoped for before, paled in comparison with his freely given trust.

Mere hours earlier, he had shown that trust when he laid the only tangible reminder he had of his mother before me. Glinting and large, the oval cut diamond, enclosed by a shiny, hollow gold ring was undoubtedly the most beautiful I had ever seen. The precious gem was held firmly in place by two slight finger-like protrusions on each side with each extending a golden finger which elegantly curved at its end to secure it. On the smooth gold surface around the diamond, the same words I had read on Philip Masen's lapel were boldly and neatly embossed. _La Coeur de Lyon, the Lion Heart._

I had shaken my head countless times at the sight of the ornament then, but try as I may to dispel the disbelief from my mind, the feeling of surprise remained unabated in me. I had repeatedly shut my eyes hoping to open them to a new vision, but the subliminal human gesture had brought me no sway from the reality of the scene before me.

As I had not anticipated the turn of events or the discoveries we were to about make, it was easy for me to shift my focus to examining the documents contained in the silver box. Again, nothing had prepared me for the revelation that followed.

The first article atop the string bound letters was a sealed brown leather pouch. In it, we had come across two tightly wrapped plain gold coins, a small key and a note. _These are the very last of my father's estate,_ it said in a neat scrawl. I fingered the uneven edges lightly and lifted my eyes up to see my son looking somber.

"Coins from the gold rush," I said, stating the obvious.

Edward, who had been sitting in the chair across from me, frowned slightly and turned to look at the box again signaling his desire to move on with the investigations. I slowly unwound the string from the stack of envelopes and picked the topmost. The paper looked weary, age-beaten and misused when I pulled it out of its envelope. Its browning edges were jagged and tattered, leaving the poorly preserved paper fragile and the writing on it, almost illegible. Edward heaved upright, his interest visibly rising at the sight of the letter. His usual camaraderie seemed to revive slowly with the inspection of each article as we perused his grandfather's wishes, and as he read the letter through my mind, his eyes widened as mine had.

It was a no simple document. In the top right hand corner, there was an embossed paper seal, and on the left, there was an illustration of a shield around which the words, "Vox Clamantis in Deserto," were printed boldly. My interest however, lay with the declaration that had been made below.

_Dear Mr. Masen, _it began, _The Board of Trustees of Dartmouth College and the Dartmouth Medical School and research facility, wish to thank you sincerely for your contribution of $5,000,000.00 to the research into the probable medical use of Antibiosis. _

_We have also received with great delight, the documented works of Mr. Louis Pasteur and Mr. John Tyndall, regarding their hypotheses concerning this research effort, which you kindly sent to us._

_We fully understand your request that we correspond solely with your heir in regard to your donation, should you experience an untimely demise, and have made arrangements to satisfy this. We hope for a continual relationship between you and the Dartmouth College… _

Again, I sat breathless still from shock. I had heard about the various attempts to research into antibiosis as a medical remedy, but without proof, the study had seemed nothing more to me than a baseless rumor. As I was always intrigued by the latest discoveries in medicine, I had listened intently as a colleague in Ohio spoke about its rejection. Back then, it was rumored that many venerated medical scholars had partaken in its dismissal, and so, I was intrigued to find that such a large sum of money had been provided as funding for the further research of an apparently 'lost cause'.

_What knowledge had your grandfather possessed that informed his decision to dish out such a large amount of money as donation to continue a failed study? _ I asked silently, knowing he did not have the answer to that question._ Might this be what Elizabeth meant by the truly deserving? _ I mused, lightly fingering the uneven crest at the top of the weakening paper.

"Possibly, though I do not understand who the truly deserving are in this case," Edward answered.

_Maybe, she meant for us to see to it that the University received the necessary funding it needed to further the research to its conclusive end, _I theorized.

"Yes, but the letter expressly stated that the authority to do so lay only with Anthony Masen's heir," Edward countered.

"Hmm, an heir that has yet to be found," I nodded in agreement with his statement, my voice trailing off as I thought again about the letter and tried to ascertain Mr. Masen's motivation for funding antibiosis. In a flash of recollection, I saw Philip, the Parisian elitist, posing as a gentleman. His stern face and cold eyes as he turned to look at George's grave, Harry mentioning his claim to be at the University in New Hampshire attending to his late grandfather's business when he really was in Rochester, New York, his engagement in the Masen family heritage and his overseeing capacity in France…_ Louis Pasteur_! I bolted up straight in my seat and looked up at Edward fleetingly, turning to look at the box in the very moment he also did.

With a sigh, I stood up from my seat beside the trail and went to join Edward at the front of house. A while later, I peeked at him again; this time his face was serene, maybe even happy, with touches of anticipation and contentment around his eyes and lips as he drove us past Ashland's central district. We were soon riding through a seemingly unending and deserted avenue lined on both sides by ancient trees.

The scenery became monotonous, even on the unknown road, and after a few moments of deliberation I conceded that I was at a genuine loss to find a reasonable explanation for this impromptu journey. With a sigh, I quelled my wandering thoughts and settled down to enjoy the earthy scent of melting snow seeping through the ground, and my son's company.

Occasionally, a solitary house appeared in the distance ahead causing me to wonder if that was our final destination. When we passed it by, Edward chuckled softly at my confusion, but he never uttered a word. He drove faster, pushing the Cadillac onward to reach our mystery destination much quicker. I was curious about his haste; however, I pursed my lips to keep me from breaking my promise not to ask.

There was a comfortable silence in the car while I contentedly absorbed the precious moments of companionship with my son, and the feel of the cold wind whipping across my face. This silence was unlike the one we had suffered through for the fortnight prior to yesterday. Our unspoken words were not because of obstinacy or rebellion; this hush came from the comfort we found in trusting each other.

Sooner than I expected, we came upon a cul-de-sac where he parked the car. He stepped out and stood by his door, silently waiting for me to join him. As I stood and walked around the front of the vehicle, I noticed a knee-high brick wall hidden beneath a considerable mass of creeping plants. I lifted my head to look through the ancient trees that partially enclosed the muddy thoroughfare and turned back to look at the smiling vampire.

He gestured at the large yard just behind the short wall, and I turned to look again. A sparse cluster of two-storied brick buildings stood in no semblance of order a little ways from us. Next to a noticeably larger building, a steeple rose from a small chapel on the farthest right side of the yard. On a barren field to its left side, children tossed snowballs at each other in playful banter while their parents scrambled around them in an effort to coerce them into good behavior. Two elaborately decorated pine trees stood just outside of the wooden doors that had been flung wide open, letting out the dainty human voices that sang the hymns of the yuletide in its confines.

_You brought me to church? _I asked in disbelief_. _

"No Carlisle, I brought you to a school."

Oh, of course! I had barely noticed the young men, most of whom were about my son's age, filing into the chapel in uniform clothing. They seemed to hasten from the halls scattered around the compound, with each carrying a small black Bible and a leather bound hymnal.

"The Lutheran Boys Junior College?" I asked, and Edward nodded in confirmation.

One more look around, and again, I understood the meaning of this gesture.

"I could have you enrolled for the next semester," I said, turning to look him straight in the eye.

His liquid gold orbs shone with unconcealed glee at the prospects, and he pointlessly patted his unruly hair into compliance. Suddenly, his face fell and a pained expression overtook his features once more.

"What if I couldn't do this Carlisle," he lifted his tortured eyes to mine. "What if one of them fell and scraped his knee, what if something happened and I just couldn't resist, what if I can never be like you?"

My heart broke at his torment and though his fears were valid, they were also irrelevant. Edward had shown a great restraint from the tempting call of human blood in the past, and I knew that if he set his mind to it, he could resist.

I searched desperately for the words to reassure him, coming up only with one simple but true statement.

_I have faith in you._

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Playlist:

Lost – Red (End of Silence)

Pieces – Red (End of Silence) - on my LJ

Already Over – Red (End of Silence) - on The Unlikely Heir thread on twilighted

Hide – Red (End of Silence)

Will You – P.O.D (Payable On Death)

Supermassive Black Hole – Muse (Twilight OST)

**A/N**: _I wish I could respond to your review directly Alex, but I hope that by dedicating this chapter to you, your pain is lesser now. _

_Please bear with me on the delay. I was super massively blocked, and research for this was more extensive than I thought. Any historical inaccuracy you may find in the story is unintentional. Plus, I have been working frantically to start posting __**In Rebellion **__(on my profile) __by July 27, 2009 and that has eaten a little into TUH's time. I am really sorry._

_Thank you all for supporting this story._


	14. FISSURE

_This chapter underwent rigorous **editing** by two very exceptional ladies. _

_My eternal thanks go to __**findthewill **__and __**Slovesemmett**__ for patiently looking it over and over and over again._

14. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR**: FISSURE

_**Carlisle**_

It felt good to escape the clutches of painful memories engulfing the study today. When I set out running through the icy forest behind the house, my thoughts had been centered only on finding reprieve from all of the ominous confessions contained in the papers in the silver box. My efforts for finding peace were rapidly proving to be a Herculean task as it was becoming quite apparent that no matter where I was, the specter of Anthony Masen's words would continue to haunt me.

The second letter I had pulled out of Anthony Masen's bin of surprises had looked to be the oldest of the lot. Its girth was immediately notable, as was its weight and age. As I unfolded it, the crumbling paper crackled in stiffness and protest. As usual, Mr. Masen's impeccable calligraphy was scrawled neatly on the paper. Beside his words though, a distinct handwriting, Elizabeth's I presumed, had made neat notes. I glanced through at first, pausing midways from the end at the sheer depth of information it held. I set out then to read more slowly from the beginning.

Anthony Masen's thoughts had started with his deepest concern for the future of his estate and his investments. Gradually, he began to shed more light on the true import of the late Mrs. Masen's earlier statement about _the_ _truly deserving. _I marveled at his words, mostly in happiness, as he confirmed some of my theories. Other times however, the correspondence splayed on my desk, mainly revealed the truth behind the nature of the deceased patron's relationship with his once _beloved_ son, Edward Senior.

It all sounded unbelievable to me, as I stared at the letter and shook my head with sympathy. That a man would regard his own son with the derision that Anthony Masen confessed to greatly astonished me. Even on the most wretched of my days, I never would have guessed why the son had severed the ties he had with his father. But the truth, wrought from the heart of the remorseful patriarch, had been staggering.

It was easy to lay the blame at Anthony's feet, to sympathize with Edward Senior's steadfast tenacity, and to justify the latter's decision to ban his family from his home. In fact, I even understood the younger father's reasoning to _protect his family,_ as Elizabeth had confided in her notes attached to the letter. I sighed with conviction, knowing that I would go to equal lengths to protect my son from harm too.

Anthony wrote of a gruesome incident regarding a slave being beaten to death in a town square. This had intrigued his young son, and since then, caused him to watch closely every time for a repeat of the incidence.

_We were journeying to visit my wife's relatives in Alabama, when we chanced upon the bloody undertaking of law enforcers 'instilling' discipline in a dissident Negro. Since then, my son always asked my opinions about what I thought was right and wrong. _

_I might have been aware of his later inclination had I paid better attention to the boy. Maybe, Elizabeth, in the depths of my mind, I already had knowledge of the path he would later choose. Doubtlessly, it seemed my son had become enraptured in the pursuit of finding justice for the ill-treated members of our society, even then._

He spoke then about his disapproval of his son's choice to pursue the law, claiming it was disgraceful that Edward Masen Senior had chosen a profession where his cohorts were mere attention seekers and lowly hustlers.

_My only option then, to protect my family from this disgrace, was to ensure that my son's ambitions never came alive._

Truthfully, Anthony's decision to obstruct his son's chosen future had brought an unexpected twist in the order of events, and was a dreadful shame indeed. His confession of thwarting the younger Masen's efforts to enroll in any of the colleges of his choice, _by any means possible,_ stunned me. In the end, the only achievement he had made was to compel the determined Edward Senior further and further from his home in New Hampshire.

Elizabeth's notes indicated her husband's turmoil in that time, as he finally settled at the Boston University, and chronicled their struggles together. She mentioned the challenges her husband faced to remain in school, the few years after they were married, until the time Jeremiah Jenks delivered Anthony's first letter, a few months before Edward Junior was born.

_His letter pled for forgiveness,_ she had written, _and my help to reconcile his family. I forgave him for it all._

I marveled at her words. Anthony's decisions as a father had been catastrophic. Yet, no matter how opposed he had been to Edward Senior's decision, I could not judge him harshly. He had been ignorant, willful and conceited, but still deserving of forgiveness.

Clemency had obviously eluded Anthony though. Even on his dying day, Edward Senior had still not forgiven him. For the young lawyer, as his dutiful wife had written in her response, there was nothing that could persuade him. His father's pleas for reconciliation had fallen on deaf ears, barely grazing his impenetrably obstinate heart. Without a doubt, the reason for his son's stance seemed to be based on the same words that reverberated shock and pity whenever I recalled them.

_It had been Edward's fervent desire to visit his dying mother for a moment, after he received news of her demise,_ Anthony had admitted, _but I had seen no reason to be lenient with my previous pronouncement to disown him, and thus ensured that he was denied that privilege._

I heaved a sigh as I finally reached my destination. Forsaking my original intention of proceeding on a quick hunt, I had veered off the initial course I had set out for at the foot of the cliffs not a mile away from the Ashland Township. I drained a couple of wild bucks on my way, but was admittedly still too preoccupied to return home, and effectively continue my appraisal of the depressing letters.

My impulsive decision to stand stationary on the bank of the brook, that ripped a path through the darkened woods, brought me no discernible relief either. If anything at all, the steady hum of the flowing river only led me to ponder the strength of my own relationship with my son.

Edward Junior had sought me out earlier, quickly expressing his desire to be released from further participation in the task of trying to decipher his grandfather's portentous secrets. Instead, he excitedly stepped out to go and watch the National Negro Baseball League players practicing just outside of town, leaving me alone with my curiosity and the brunt of what was to come.

It was obvious he thoroughly enjoyed the sport. But as a game of baseball was nearly impossible for just the both of us to play, he had quickly found a new way to satiate this yearning. Watching the league players practicing on a large clearing in the outskirts of town had soon become his favorite distraction.

Once, they had pitched a ball too far off the mark, and Edward had caught the little globe never to return it. He chose instead to display the stolen object on top of his window ledge, which was not to my liking in any way. I tried to chastise him, telling him gently, that I could not condone theft. He had frowned for a second, and then smiled brilliantly as he said, "It is not stolen Carlisle, the players simply threw their ball too far off the mark, and lost it."

Lost it they had, just like Anthony Masen and his son had thrown the ball of their affinity too far off and allowed it to disappear in a sea of pride – never to be recovered. It was evident that this rift had been the primary cause of the dispersal of the late patriarch's wealth, and in turn, the rise of his greedy sons' cruelty.

At least, my suspicions had been confirmed when the letter alluded to the presence of an important segment of his assets being stationed in Paris. The portion of the Masen fortune for which Philip had been entrusted to administer bore a mark of particularity about it. Although his suggestions were still too vague to explain what it was, Anthony's many referrals to the city of Paris and the _Institut Pasteur_ could only mean that they were of a scientific or medical proclivity.

_In any case, I now know what the key is for, _I thought with temporary satisfaction, looking back at the letter and catching sight of his written intentions once more. I caught sight of another phrase from the pages and frowned once more. Anthony's chosen euphemism for describing his family was, even if apt, not admirable at all.

Calling them spineless carcasses was rather condescending, I thought, even if the comparison fittingly expressed his great disappointment in his family. Detailing their shortcomings and myopia towards the _future_, he continually emphasized his need for a person who shared his visions to continue in his steps.

_What a waste it would be, dear Elizabeth, if my other sons were to discover my intentions. But, I am assured that their ridiculous expenditures are guaranteed to diminish these reserves in less than a year. Their ways are excessive, thoughtless and callous. Yet, I wonder, who then shall I entrust my wealth to upon my passing? _

From here, he ceaselessly lamented the loss of his 'beloved' son.

_If only Edward had stayed, _he'd written,_ might this family have been different?_

_Maybe not_, I thought, human nature had proven many times before, to be entrenched in its wicked ways. What happened may still have happened, only in a different manner. However, I was certain that they would have made a picture perfect family without the trenches; the deep fissures that tore through the fabric of their relationship. The friendship that had once been carefully knitted between the self confessed controlling father and his adoring son lay in ruins from indignation.

Could there have been no compromise? Was there no middle ground for the disappointed Anthony Masen, who had lost more than a child when Edward Senior readily forfeited his legacy to follow his own passion? What had the bitterness between them achieved? They had both wasted so many years in pomposity, seeking validation for their hastily spoken displeasure for each other stemming from the heat of a lone moment.

While they probably could have done a greater good acting in unison, each claimed to be his own man. Again, father and son had suffered in silent torture. In the end, they had dug these deep chasms of discord on their own, finding out too late it seemed, that they had only ever set themselves up to lay eternally buried in their graves of pride.

_Oh, Elizabeth! _I moaned quietly, bringing her shimmering emerald eyes to the forefront of my mind. Her tight smile had been so endearing and miserable all at once in the small hospital the first day I met her. Though she shook violently with the fevers of the influenza, the determined young woman had refused to give up her fight, even in the face of adversity.

Clearly, the burden had fallen on her shoulders to attempt to establish a resolution between her father in-law and her husband. Her perseverance to ensure that she achieved that deed was apparent from the numerous side notes she attached to each letter she had received from Anthony. Also clear, was the fact that she had yielded little result from her attempts.

From the letters, it was apparent that compromise was hardly an option on the Chicagoan side. Edward Senior swore himself away from the family that had coldly betrayed him on the night Anthony threw him out, and kept him out upon his mother's death. Intimating to his wife that his father's humiliation had as little effect on him as did his connivance to ensure he never succeeded as a lawyer, Elizabeth carefully noted on the side of the letter that her insistent pleading had not persuaded her husband even once on the issue.

I glanced up at the work of art hanging on the left wall of the room I sat in, grimacing as the unwanted thoughts of yesteryears assailed my mind. A hazy picture of the home of my youth filled my mind, slowly overshadowing the careful strokes of "The Waggoner" before me.

There were no pleasant memories from the cold and dreary cobblestone streets of 17th century London. Besides, I already tried as much as possible not to relive the strongest human memories I had, of the days when my father clasped the yoke of injustice around the necks of the poor hapless victims of his ill-informed misconceptions.

The embittered Anglican priest, believing that he had lost his wife to death while she bore his only son through the wiles of witches, had sought every horrid way to rid the world of the "creatures of darkness" that he deeply blamed for his countless quandaries. He swore to purge the "Lord's Good Ground" of their filth and debauchery, but the more he sought out the 'evildoers', the further he had driven my admiration for him into the gallows. I shook my head with the realization that my own father had been no better than Anthony Masen.

The tattered edges of the pages of secrets that still lay on my desk were a testimony to the frequency with which the epistle had been handled. _How many times has this been read and reread?_ I wondered. While it was understandable that the senior Edward Masen had been affronted by his father's rebuttal, what had inspired his defiance of his father?

Anthony's insistence to have his son study the sciences baffled me. Of course, he had mentioned his reasons for the decision, citing Puerperal fever and his own mother in the same sentence. Still, I wondered why it had been such a necessity for him to push his son to pursue a study that did not appeal to him.

Anthony's obvious obsession with helping to advance medicine became much clearer now. It seemed that he had dedicated most of his life to this cause as a result of losing his mother to the childbirth disease. I pitied the dead man now. In his desperation to memorialize his mother, he had ended up losing his son too.

Edward Senior, intent on offering his knowledge to aid in obtaining some justice for those who had been denied their rights, vehemently opposed launching a career in the field of medicine, and soon rebelled. He had turned away from his father's wealth and walked out of his home then, barely a man, and ready to start carving his own path in life.

I looked up into the sky above the steep edges of the ridge of cliffs in the distance. It was still very bright, as it had been yesterday, and the day before that. I had missed three days at the hospital because of the sun, and wondered then if it was time to change my schedule to start working nights. I sighed again, though this time, with reluctance. It was time to return to the stack of mysteries waiting to be revealed. With another glance up the cliffs, I turned and ran home.

Edward was leaning against a tree trunk, idly throwing his ball in the air when I reached home. I turned to look at him, and froze from his cold hard stare.

"Edward?" I asked, puzzled by the expression on his face. "Are you well?"

He turned his tightly pressed lips up at the corners and nodded. There was a look of resolve in his eyes that both frightened and unnerved me, but I accepted his vague reassurance and returned to the house to set the letter back in its place. I sharply shut the box with the hopes that the pause I took from rummaging its contents would bring a pinch of relief from the pain I felt. There was no ebb for the melancholy in me that arose from dredging up my past, but at least, there was a new sense of accomplishment and pride for my son.

I strolled to the window that opened to the yard and looked at him again; Edward, my son, had stopped tossing his prize and was standing unmoving beside the tree. His brows were furrowed in contemplation as he gazed unseeingly into the distance.

Even though his lips were more relaxed now, I was still uncertain about the look on the young man's face. "_If you have any worries, I'll be here to listen," _I tried to reassure him, wondering what could be troubling him so.

Memories of our recent conflict invaded my mind as I studied him, admiring how he had solved weeks of an impasse with such grace and courage. Was it a fact of life then, that father and son were always bound to oppose? I wondered. Edward must have been in deep thought because he did not acknowledge my thoughts towards him. I sighed and slipped my hands into the pockets of my slacks. If he turned around to look up at me now, he was assured of finding the deep devotion I felt towards him spilling through my gaze.

Besides, my thoughts were already enraptured with the fierceness of my oath, that no matter what the disagreement, I would never cause my son to swear such repugnance towards me. Unlike Anthony Masen, I was determined to keep my mind, and my doors open to my son – always.

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**PLAYLIST**:

This Is Who I am – Third Day (Live Revelations Disc 1)

Forgive Me – Jars of Clay (The Long Fall Back to Earth)

Resurrect Me – Jon Foreman (Spring & Summer Disc 2)

Life – Eowyn (Silent Screams)


	15. CEINTURE

_- One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind ~Malayan Proverb. _

_My deepest gratitude goes to two very wonderful ladies, **findthewill** and **Slovesemmett**. I am much obliged!_

_

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15.** THE UNLIKELY HEIR: **CEINTURE

_**Carlisle**_

I had stopped breathing. Not that it mattered if I did so or not – the fact that I did not need air was completely irrelevant in the situation. All I knew was that I held my breath for one definite reason – I was shocked! My eyes had slowly widened along with those into which I keenly stared, watching as the shaken form before me took in the gravity of the events that had just played out moments before. I held his gaze, unwilling to look away and potentially miss any attempts I could make to rectify my negligence.

He blinked a stream of tears out of his eyes, letting them trail down his cheeks, and onto his dirty, ragged clothes. Even so, I refused to look away, waiting and watching with consternation for any sign that he had seen my impetuous actions. He seemed frozen to his spot on the ground, looking half crazed, weak, and as pale as though he had seen a ghost! I groaned softly at the sense of dread that filled me when I, again, considered the foreboding reality of discovery. The man facing me seemed oblivious to my countenance; as obviously, he was himself fraught with unadulterated fright.

I sighed softly, inhaling the heady mixture of earthy scents and the unmistakable stench of urine. _Poor man_, I thought, taking a softer line from my selfish need to protect myself, and glancing down at the frail human for the first time. I was overwhelmed with sympathy for him immediately. His clothes were unclean and tattered, and his bare-feet had dug soft molds of his footprints in the cold moist ground below. He folded his arms over his thin shirt in a bid to shield himself, it seemed, from the weather, and maybe, from me. His posture hardly protected him from his fears. The night air was still wintery cold, and I was still silently present. I slowly raised my head to study his face again, paying closer attention to his other features as he lifted weepy eyes to look at me. Drying mud was spattered through his unkempt hair, and a trickle of blood stained the corner of his swollen lips.

I bent slowly, reaching out for my overcoat from the boulder on which I had left it. I shook it out and gently draped it around his slumped shoulders, carefully avoiding any contact with his skin . He quickly pulled the open edges of the proffered garment closely together, huddling into the crook of the fallen trees at our side and shyly looking off in the opposite direction to avoid staring at me anymore. I put my own clothes back on as quickly as was humanly feasible, and walked back to him. When he looked up again, I was greeted with a small smile. He opened his mouth to speak, stammering a little at first, but finally getting the words through on a breathy murmur.

"Are you an angel?"

That was yesterday, in the forest behind our home, and after my 'moment of spontaneity'. How I had succumbed to my carefree nature so carelessly was beyond me. I was 280 years old and should have known better. Of course, when I heeded the soothing call of the river behind our home, it was not with the intention of getting caught frolicking in it like a child. I had only intended to swim a few 'cleansing' laps across the narrow expanse. A quick dip in the icy liquid depths would have undeniably done nicely. Instead, I had been caught showing off my inhuman nature.

I shook my head in disbelief at my own behavior, glancing again at the unfortunate human who had chanced upon the playful vampire. He breathed deeply now, snuggling further under the blankets on the hospital bed. He had been mostly shaken by the experience, and once he had convinced himself that he was safe in the presence of an 'angel', he had elected not to speak any further on the matter. I was only partially relieved by his resolve not to argue the point. In actual fact, I still worried about his recovery. _Once he is fully healed, will he still consider me an angel?_ I pondered.

Mulling the subject had not provided any answers, for my fears remained all throughout the night, and still did nothing to calm my anxiety today. All I had achieved in my concern was an unabashedly amused son. Edward laughed. He had shown no reservations at my turmoil at all. He simply took one look at me and roared with laughter. In a small way, his reaction pleased me greatly. After weeks of watching my son's frame of mind grow in melancholy, I was glad that my frustration served as a source of joy and levity for the young vampire.

Smiling at the young man's amusement, I'd walked away, slowly climbing the stairs to my study to quietly contemplate this predicament I had created. Once I had fully settled down to wait for the end of the day, I peeked in the metal box on the wooden desk again.

Its secrets were many, unwinding slowly in an effort to explain the mystery of Elizabeth's _truly deserving_. Every sheet of paper, which had been folded and laid in the depths of the box, held a new piece of the puzzle. At its bottom laid a collection of documents for a quest that I had yet to understand.

Gradually, some additional facts had come to light; such facts as those which Elizabeth had carefully hidden on a separate sheet of paper, tucked into another letter and held separately from the bound stack. I had been surprised to discover them, though happy that I had picked up the stack to rearrange the letters at the time.

The first letter, in which Elizabeth's own had been wrapped, seemed to be from George Brooks. In his barely legible handwriting, he had spoken about his fears for his life as he continued to guard the true hiding place of the box.

He had written to Elizabeth about the days when he was sure that there were otherworldly 'beings' outside his home – _Witches, Lizzy, witches come to haunt me 'til I confess the location of the letters. I have had many sleepless nights from the noises they make; the haunting moans followed by the dragging footsteps of ghosts…_

I couldn't help the small smile that spread across my face in memory of Edward's response to George's statement, when I had shared these newest revelations with him. He had laughed softly, murmuring under his breath, "As usual, a misplaced fear."

My son's blissful expression had, however, fallen at the mere mention of Philip Masen, when I continued reading the letter.

_Maybe, they are employees of my brother, Philip? _George pondered.

I frowned slightly at his theory, glancing up as Edward rose from his seat sharply and began to pace. The truth about Elizabeth's earlier encounters with Philip made Edward seethe in anger as he heard the extent to which the fortune distressed his mother.

She had written her grief-stricken note in a shakier hand than was her usual, maybe, to serve as a warning to whomever she chose to bequeath her quest to later, how she had first chosen to trust Philip with her secret.

_I have deliberated carefully, and for several days, in a bid to understand the reason for the sudden spate of the murders claiming my most trusted friends. I am sorrowful and confused but willing to deduce that, as Philip Masen is the only confidante to whom I have intimated the presence of the fortune, and who still remains in this event, he must be privy to some knowledge regarding the sudden dangers I have encountered since the passing down of Anthony's legacy to me._

_To this effect, I have secretly dispatched a letter to Mr. Jeremiah Jenks to seek his wisdom about the ensuing events of the past few weeks…_

I pulled the box forward gently, lifting the cover to find that the last letter I had read was still unfolded and placed arbitrarily atop the others. I lifted the paper, refolded it and placed it underneath the still bound stack waiting to be read. I carefully lowered the metal cover back over the metal container and shoved it to the side. I was in no hurry to return to the cause of my current woes. I sighed, casting a sidelong glance at the box, before returning to my musings.

Edward had agreed to leave with me at the first hint that we were truly in danger of exposure. He promised to listen to the man's thoughts later in the night when I was scheduled to report to the hospital, before we made any further plans.

It had worried me immensely when I asked the night before if he would go with me. I hated pulling him away from the place he had come to grow so passionate about in such a short time. He had found his footing in this place it seemed, loving the weather – as it was nearly always overcast, waiting eagerly for the start of the school term, and finding his current passion in the baseball league, especially with a team playing just outside of the township.

At Edward's invitation, I had gone with him once to watch them play, marveling slightly at the brief pang of jealousy that overwhelmed me at the apparent happiness that the sport stimulated in both its players and spectators. Edward acted as commentator, explaining the events to me, and silently laughing sporadically at the players' impulsive thoughts.

"Why is he so hesitant?" I asked when one pitcher seemed reluctant to throw his ball.

"He's waiting for the right moment to throw. He is quite enthusiastic to impress the lady in blue, seated on the bench on the left."

_Hmm, how engrossed you are in the game, _I thought in admiration, earning a small smile in response.

Ever since that day, I had found a great love for the sport, and with my son's encouragement, I had grown significantly captivated by it. What had started out as a familial activity, soon turned into a shared infatuation. Now, Edward and I were always the first to arrive at the newly refurbished field when a game was scheduled to transpire, opting for seating quite far from the human players, prudently avoiding accidents. The seats we chose were benches close to the edge of the forest that most people avoided which were always dark enough to hide the both of us as we paid rapt attention to the progress of the game, or quietly argued about the outcome.

Yesterday, a sudden storm had disrupted our usual routine. Edward and I had just stepped out of the house when we noticed the approaching rain clouds from a distance. Without a spoken word between us, we had turned back into the house to await the storm.

Edward played his piano for a while, giving up with a grunt of frustration when his latest composition failed to conform to his imagination. He shut the lid over the ivory keys and came to sit with me on the balcony behind the study. There, we sat in silence, looking off into the distance, over the tops of the homes a few miles away from us when he finally spoke.

"Why Carlisle? Why should they murder a poor, ignorant person for wealth they have enough of already?" he inquired with a soft moan.

I glanced up at him, unsurprised by his sudden question, but concerned by his turmoil. Edward had a good heart, and an apparent desire to help the vulnerable. His uncles' greed had undoubtedly provoked a considerable amount of anger.

I struggled for the words to answer his question adequately while he waited patiently for me to voice a response that was contrary to the thoughts I had of the appalling behavior of his human kin. I sighed in defeat, and ran a hand through my hair. Nothing I would say could absolve the notions in either of our minds, it seemed. Clearly, Edward was angry at their actions, while I was simply disgusted by their greed.

He nodded and walked away, calling out in barely audible clipped tones that he was headed to his room to read. I watched as he shut the door behind him, and for the first time, questioned my decision to accept the journey on which Elizabeth had sent us. Finding the truly deserving was no doubt a dangerous mission indeed.

I wondered again about our greatest threat, Philip Masen. Besides his position as the overseer of Anthony's cluster of French businesses, Elizabeth had conceded in her letter that she had only spoken with him about the existence of the fortune and the key because of the fond manner with which Anthony had spoken of his golden-haired grandson, considering him to be the more trustworthy of the grandchildren he had direct contact with, and the more responsible as well.

With George heartbroken and set on pursuing a course that was not only dangerous, but also illegal, Elizabeth had been left with no one else to confide in. It seemed logical then that the one person she would inform about the letters was Philip. He, on the other hand, had turned out to be greedy and wicked. As Elizabeth noted, the most critical of all her mistakes had been to inform him about the specific contents of the letter.

_Please be forewarned; should Philip acquire the key enclosed in this box, the quest for which we have diligently toiled will surely end in naught. For as we seek the rightful heir and the truly deserving of Anthony Masen's legacy, there are those who also seek an untoward agenda for the same wealth that we pursue. _

I shook my head slowly, pursing my lips slightly in anger at the ruthless man that had caused so many innocents their demise for greed. How had one of such noble birth stooped to such a lowly status as a murderer? Were there no laws that obliged the rich to live within the acceptable confines of society any longer?

I stood up and walked to the tightly shut windows on the wall behind me. Unlatching them, I carefully parted the aged wood and raised my face to soak in the lingering few rays of sunlight that peeked through the retreating rain clouds. Every surface seemed clearer now, and though there seemed to be a slightly salty tang in the atmosphere, I paid it no heed as I looked out into the darkening day.

It was deathly still. The storm that hit the town less than an hour ago had left tiny rivulets of water eroding the bare soil just below the house, and tracing wriggly lines of meaningless design on the muddy ground. I looked up into the clear sky, and breathed in deeply, hoping to suck in the refreshingly clean scents around my home again. I stilled when I smelled the salty tang again, this time, more distinctly than before – human blood!

In a heartbeat, I flung the wooden windows aside, vaguely noting their crumbling as I launched out the small opening and gripped the closest tree branch. Crouching for a moment, I searched through the scant forest hastily, drawing in another whiff to help me determine in which direction to head.

Swinging down immediately I spotted my assignment, I set out in full force towards the dangerously escalating smell, listening to my own whispering footfalls barely touch the forest ground, but more attentively for any additional ones approaching from our home.

I glanced back uncertainly; somewhat ashamed that my thoughts were saturated with the hope that Edward was far from this tragedy, and had not noticed the alluring call that was rapidly infusing the static evening air.

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**Playlist:**

Money – Flame (Flame)

Turn Around – Jonny Lang (Turn Around)

Beating My Heart – Jon McLaughlin (OK Now)

Learning to breathe – Switchfoot (Soundtrack- A Walk to Remember)

Setting Sun – Switchfoot (Nothing is Sound)

You're Not Shaken – Phil Stacey (Into the Light)

_**Author's Note:**_

_So, who do you think Carlisle is running out to meet? Any theories?_


	16. TORTURE

_**For Phil**_

_Words are not enough to fully express my gratitude to the wonderful ladies, __**Findthewill**__ and __**Slovesemmett**__, who lovingly edited this piece. I am truly floored by your graciousness._

_My sincerest gratitude also goes to you, **EliseShaw**, for the music lessons. Thank you! _

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16. **THE UNLIKELY HEIR:** TORTURE

_**Edward**_

Impressions of ecstasy wafted slowly down my back, tracing indolently over my arched spine in intense spurts of absolute release. I inhaled once, sharply, as my mind bore the overwhelming and unassuming strength of seduction's embrace ever so slowly. All my senses were being permeated by this infrequent moment of passion induced stupor, and I surrendered to its power completely.

With my eyes tightly shut, I could feel the especially subtle and sweet caresses travel up the stony flesh of my outstretched arms into my barely competent intellect. A bright burning inferno tingled just beneath my cold ashen skin to burst behind my eyelids in a primitive dance of lights and colors.

I threw my head back and let myself fly on strong euphoric wings. My un-beating heart soared to novel heights wrapped in the cocoon of my most present occupation. Note after note, a crescendo was rapidly building beneath my nearly blurring fingers.

My hands needed no particular guidance for this exercise; my fingers already knew the tune which they played with such practiced ease. Black and white merged into colorful delight as finally, the music that coated the walls of the living room I played in, merged at its hilt. A fiery blaze erupted all around me, briefly transporting me through a different time and place for the period in which it lasted.

My lips parted on a soft sigh, my breathing returned to a regular pace, and my eyes slowly opened on the final chords of the diminuendo. The remnants of my joy lingered for a while longer before settling into taut knots in the pit of my abdomen. The corners of my lips lifted of their own accord, curving into a wide smile at the sheer peace that encompassed every infinitesimal pore within me.

I glanced up at the leather bound pages before me. With time, its once white papers had aged into delicate yellowed treasures. Lifting them all carefully, I arranged them into a neat pile and placed them back into the black pouch I treasured above all else and always kept with me.

Papa had called the coveted music sheets, which he had brought home that day, from his journey to a certain foreign land, Clair de Lune. I remembered staring in childish awe as he hummed the melody he swore was the best piano presentation he had ever heard, and swept my giggling mother into his arms for a waltz.

Her ensuing laughter rang melodically through my mind, whether in my imagination or in actual memory, I was unsure. A picture of her shining green eyes, as Carlisle had described in his memories of my late mother, danced with unbridled delight at my father's gesture. She clung breathlessly to her husband's frame, smiling and twirling, seemingly secure in the arms of the man she loved.

They had looked so perfect together, fitting against each other as only two halves of a perfect whole would. A twinge of jealousy had seized me briefly, causing me to raise my hands to my mother, conveying my silent desire to be a part of their intimate embrace. There seemed to be no room for another body, but my mother had found a small nook in which she could fit her "little soldier."

My eyes drifted shut again, willing my mind to hold on to the rare occurrence. From the dimmest reserves of my new mind, the memory from which I had acquired my greatest passion dredged up, and played back in startling clarity.

I passed my hands over my eyes momentarily in a purely human gesture, lifting up and leaving the living room to attend to the remainder of the book I had left in my room. When I reached the confines of my abode, I inhaled slowly, letting it back out as I looked around my room to take in its simplicity. I had no need of treasures or fortunes. My life was devoid of the contrivances of the wealthy and I enjoyed the freedom of staying in modesty.

Carlisle had spoiled me well with the pleasurable gifts he bought me over the last few years. Of them all, my piano and my brand new car were the best of my possessions. Though most of my human memories were still dim, I was quite sure that I had not lived in poverty then either.

I remembered my old piano, set in the middle of the drawing room at Chicago. My late father had always been so proud whenever I played Clair de Lune, and my mother had simply been delighted. Those were the good days it seemed, because I remembered another time quite immediately.

My human father had been furious about a pendant, a startling emerald that hung around my mother's neck the day he had arrived unexpectedly from one of his journeys.

"No Elizabeth," he whispered harshly from his study. "I will not allow it. Has he not done enough harm?"

"He's remorseful. Give him another chance. Why do you still hold on to this grudge, Edward?"

A short pause later, his quiet voice had responded, "Because I choose to protect my family from leeches."

How ironic, I thought. Had he known then that his only son would become a blood-sucking vampire, would he have chosen the same words? Glancing back at the page of the worn volume I still held in before my face, I thought again about the events of the day before.

After I had played my piano over and over for a good number of times, I had finally decided to take a walk through the house in search of an activity to assuage the painful tedium of the day. Ending up in the library only seemed like the norm now. However when I reached my father's desk, I was surprised to find that he had left it in an unusual disarray.

Carlisle had placed the book on the table, beside the metal box that held more notations of my family's iniquitous deeds. The letter he had read recently had been left unfolded atop the stack of others still waiting to be perused. I ignored the documents, and picked up the interesting novel. Turning it around to read its back, I smiled at the inscription on it. Interesting selection, I thought, heading for my room, and hoping to thoroughly read myself into oblivion.

I laughed once at my own lame joke. Vampires had no oblivion. There was nothing but harsh reality and barely a blink of escape from its constant stimulation. When Carlisle had returned home that morning from his shift, I had not expected to see that he was still concerned about his plight, not after our brief meeting last night when he returned to fetch his bag and head back to the hospital.

This quest was beginning to take a grave toll on him. Yesterday had been the worst I had seen him, watching as he rushed out, barely acknowledging my presence in any way. His blonde hair had been tousled, falling into his eyes as though he had kept combing his fingers through. I had stepped out of his way, noting from his mind that he was not paying me any attention. He had only kept rereading the letters, my mother's and George's, in his mind. Worried immensely, and clearly devastated by their contents, he barged out the door, heading for the nearly frozen creek a few miles behind our home.

Later that day, he had trudged in slowly from his unexpected experience, stepping through the doors with outright confusion and fear running through his mind, and had not seen me there again. This time however, I could not contain my amusement.

I laughed. I had not meant to be discourteous, and it was not that I found anything humorous about the situation in which Carlisle found himself, but his reaction to the stranger's intrusion amused me greatly. In addition to his horror at being called an angel, the town physician's consistent concern for my safety was immensely laughable to me. Exactly what danger I was in, I was not sure, but it was ludicrous and appalling that he felt a condescending need to watch out for me. I could take care of myself better than he thought, and I had no need of his help.

In a way, my father's misconceptions about me were my hiding place. He was assured that I was his beatific son, and I was all too willing to oblige him his dreams. I would smile when he expected me to smile, agree with him when he thought I would, and steadily be the best companion I could be to him.

Truthfully, I enjoyed his amity immensely. He was a collected man – that was evident, and his extensive wisdom was possibly the best source of my endless fascination, but mostly, it was his ability to stay utterly naïve of a given situation that continually engaged me in the study of this man, Carlisle Cullen.

I knew, without a doubt, that had I chanced upon the man at the riverbank, I would have snapped his head in the same second our eyes clashed, and ended the matter there. Exactly how impossible the feat of killing was for Carlisle had slowly begun to manifest to me.

Now, I was persuaded that my father was either too feeble, or terrified to do the necessary to protect his own family. Instead of a quick and clean solution to his troubles, we had both become mandated by Carlisle's fearful adherence to law, to pack up from our new home and run with our tails firmly tucked between our legs, all for the sake of an unknown stranger.

_Maybe, you could discern his true intentions through his thoughts,_ he had suggested, smiling slowly as if to encourage a positive response.

"Of course," I had muttered softly in response, smiling back.

I nodded, agreeing to his unspoken request just like the perfect son was supposed to do. He was unsure what to make of my answer, and when I shrugged lightly in response to his sudden concern, his eyes narrowed in further confusion. It did not matter what his plans were, I would go with him. In any case, I already knew that we were bound to journey away from our chosen place of settlement every few years to avoid suspicion.

"If there is no danger of discovery, we would not have to leave," he said audibly, with his mind on the field outside town.

I nodded again, and started to walk away.

_I'm sorry, son. _

I'd stopped for a moment at his words, my hand rested on the doorknob as I let his apology soak through. I was also sorry; only I felt remorse for a different matter altogether. Again, nodding once more, I twisted my wrist slightly and walked out the door.

The Myths and Legends of Cornwall spoke of mysterious ghost sightings, and also, about the tale of a young woman, Charlotte Dymond, she was called, who was allegedly killed by her fiancé for no apparent reason. I sighed as I read the extensive and descriptive essay about the supposed havoc the woman in the gown, with the red shawl and silk bonnet, had wreaked over the citizens of Cornwall.

Reminded of our current situation, I smiled again at George Brooks's erroneous beliefs. Unknown to him, he had indeed encountered several instances of his fears many years before his actual death, though there had been no ghosts as he suspected at all. The haunting moans he had heard, it seemed, were of warring factions that had nearly gotten to him save for Harry's intervention.

In the past, the younger Jenkins Scott had called his own unfortunate encounter with near death, a battle. In his mind, there was once a day, a long time ago, in a part of Rochester, when George had been engrossed in exchanging pleasantries with his old confidante, Royce King, that a skirmish had proceeded just below the quarters at which the unwitting man had stayed.

That day, just before Christmas, when he had come to visit, Harry had recalled lying in a pool of his blood, awaiting death in the thicket surrounding the estate of the banking tycoon where his cousin visited. After he had miraculously survived the clutches of the grim reaper, and with aid from a kind man who found him, hastily bound his wounds in the only way he knew how, and sent him back on his way, Harry's resolve to complete his father's agenda had been strengthened.

I shut the book I was reading and sighed, laying it, and George's misconceptions about visiting ghouls, aside. My father was still upstairs, contemplating the conversation that had passed between us a short while ago. He was right about many things. Though uncertain to him, he was more correct about my feelings toward my human family than he could imagine.

It amused me greatly that he worried so much more about my thoughts now. Had I not made it absolutely clear that I abhorred the leeches? As usual, he had no inkling what I suffered to fully formulate a satisfactory response to my woes. If Carlisle still had any doubts that this existence was hell, then he had yet to live through this torture I felt.

Besides my obvious inability to live within a reasonable façade of humanity, it seemed that by my mother's machinations and the lack of audacity within the vampire I now called father, I had also been thrown into a dizzying spin of events that had tested the last strands of my will. Surely, there was a better route to take in this difficulty, was there not?

My human father had fearlessly opposed the shackles that had been imposed on him, had he not? How different would it be then, to leave this prison of restrictive rules and pursue my cravings? Would it not be easier now, to forsake this intricate dance around the crude beings who only sought to satisfy their selfishness? He was right indeed. I was committed to a different path regarding my uncles and their many atrocities. Their cruelty had to be stopped – they did not deserve mercy.

Suddenly stepping up from the seat on which I lounged, I reached for the keys to my car when in a barely comprehensible moment, hell's fires assailed my mind, and burned down my throat; trailing an inferno that gutted through my entire body, and coiling into the crater of my being – setting my very core ablaze.

_Blood! Human blood_, a scant portion of my brain screamed. I pursed my lips hard to rein my yearnings in, narrowing my eyes, and willing the last, rapidly fading vestiges of my former humanity to surface from the depths of my lusting faculties, and return sufficient caution to my instinctual tendencies.

The slab of flimsy wood beneath my hand snapped under the pressure I had begun to exert on the back of the chair I had risen from moments ago. My shoulders were hunched forward, back bent, and my feet itched to barge through the concrete walls, and run past my racing father to the goal he had unintentionally called to my attention.

I could not smell it yet; in the confines of my room, there was no such scent as the tang that filled Carlisle's mind. Though he rarely even focused on it, his thought of the pooling blood was all that assailed my mind. Its achingly sweet aroma mocked me, taunting my resolve never to drink from a human again, and luring me onto the path that led to the promise of a fulfilling hunt.

My muscles were stretched taut in my yearning to take flight towards the known warmth, seizing me into its voracious abyss. I tried to fight against it, concentrating on drawing in steady breaths to aid my efforts, yet my stone body adamantly refused to yield to my better person.

Straightening out from my impulsive crouch was prodigious. My entire being protested the simple act exceedingly. The greatest battle though, was willing my audacious feet to stand still and my vision to clear from the alternating whizzing blur of the forest trees and the slow spreading crimson fluid my father had trained his eyes on.

"Carlisle," I whispered breathily, sinking to the ground in despair and silent pleading. My hands groped at nothing, clutching and flailing, only faintly noting then that I had broken the chair on which I had been leaning when my knees touched the ground.

There was no absolution for my monstrosity; laying my palms flat on the smooth hard floor brought me no respite at all. All I yearned for was the life giving nectar a few promised steps beyond. I gritted my teeth in frustration and utter humiliation, glancing up slowly at the flimsy wood door that barely barred my way from shame.

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**PLAYLIST:**

Monster – Skillet (Awake)

Weak Man – Leeland (Love is on the Move)

Misereatori – Enam (m'Anchelii)

Wild Child – Enya (A Day Without Rain)

Fading Away – Demon Hunter (Storm the Gates of Hell)

Set the World on Fire – Britt Nicole (Say It!)

From the Inside Out – Seventh Day Slumber (Take Everything)

How We Roll – Britt Nicole (The Lost Get Found)

Running Out of Time – BarlowGirl (Love & War)

Revolution – Jars of Clay (Furthermore from the Stage)

_**Now We Are Free – Enya (Gladiator OST)**_

_So, what do you think? _


	17. COVERTURE

Bid on me in the **Fandom Gives Back Authors Auction** and I'll write you a story from Carlisle's POV from the Saga! Details in my Author's Note at the end of the chapter.

Thanks to **Findthewill** and **Slovesemmett **for all your help. I am totally in debt to your kindness.

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17. **T****HE UNLIKELY HEIR:** COVERTURE

_**Carlisle**_

Deception put on its very best tonight, shrouding the woods behind our home in disingenuous calm. The low whistling of nighttime creatures, either calling out to their unsuspecting prey, or sharing the tales of the day between one another, hardly eased the tension that held the trees unwavering in amazement to what they bore witness to mere hours before. Not a leaf stirred, not an airy whisper dared to breathe its fright of the day's grueling vexation. The air held still forbidding its breeze, and gripping tightly, all through man's waking hours, with icier hands than it ever had before. Clearly, there had been no peace here today.

I heaved a loud sigh, turning from the window overlooking the unusual hues of the darkening expanse behind our home. Proceeding to lean against the living room doorjamb, I crossed my arms over my chest while silently watching my son's still form sitting on the large ledge beside the window at the end of the hall. He had been there nearly the whole day, seemingly staring off into the distance, or simply keeping his eyes as still as the forest, while he lost himself in concentration.

There could be no condemnation for his actions, and I yearned to tell him so. Though he could read my thoughts, I longed to soothe his obvious guilt, to speak the reassurance that he could not be blamed for the indiscretions of an immoral man. I parted my lips to speak, but finding myself unable to form any apropos phrase, I pressed my lips back together and continued my outward observation of my distressed child.

My silent pleading, that he look my way, had been constantly and purposefully ignored. Of course, he had good reason to pay me no heed. Ever since the news had reached us of the sudden fatality of his kin, unseemly relief had undeniably surged through me. It had not been my intention to intensify his distress with my breathy sigh and improper thoughts, but I had been unable to hide my relieved attitude, even knowing that Edward had obviously chosen to blame himself for Philip's untimely demise.

Though I felt pity for the deceased, his death was no reason to put my already struggling son through the torture that now besieged all, Edward had done no wrong. He had been nothing if not valiant in the face of the grave temptation that had dared to traverse our solitude, and I was unreservedly proud of him for his effort.

It was true I yearned to hear from him, to understand what he had read from the human's mind that had caused him to react in such a precipitous manner towards the end of our meeting, last night. Though he had neither confirmed nor refuted my suspicions, it seemed obvious that the mortal man had lied about his knowledge concerning his own brother's death. Still, I knew better than to voice my inquiry at this time, opting instead to be a committed presence in the face of my son's difficulty.

Edward had hardly spoken to me after Philip staggered out of our home in the twilight yesterday. After the plainly remorseful human had turned the corner away from our home, Edward returned, recounting only how the situation had started when he had heard Philip's intentions to closely monitor our family. He also described the perfect plan he had employed to startle the intruder, eventually inviting him to visit with us. Then, without exposing any of Philip's thoughts during the interview, he had disappeared into his room, only surfacing after the young nurse bearing the unfortunate news of Philip's suicide had departed.

Given his undeniable loathing for his dishonest kin, my son's agony at the news of Philip's death had been perplexing at first. I had wondered why he would mourn so passionately for the self confessed infiltrator. But, as soon as I grasped the source of his anguish, I felt nothing but sympathy for the young vampire.

It seemed to me that he had not been as calm as he had appeared after he led into our home the intruder he had discovered lurking on its outskirts. Philip's intrusion would have posed a grave danger had he remained undetected, especially to my still young son. Further compounding his struggle to contain his bloodlust, Edward's ability to read the villainous thoughts of the mortal man had no doubt worn his fragile patience and control thin, leading to his eventual disposition and his present demeanor.

My admiration of him had grown even more yesterday, it seemed. For, though it was evident how much he struggled with his nature, his circumspection in staying within reason while dealing singularly with his accursed enemy impressed me immeasurably. In addition to his laudable conduct towards his infamous cousin, his comportment while regarding him had been impeccable until the fated last minutes of our conversation with the impudent man.

Truthfully, the reality that we could have been exposed was more frightening now. After my artless actions a few days before, initiated by my pursuance of an opportunity to save a dying human and maintain a peaceful home, I was unsure how many errors I had made in the past that could have compromised our secret. Terror seized me as I considered the prospect that discovery of that secret had driven the human to such a drastic measure as taking his own life.

"He did not know," the first outspoken words of the day tumbled out softly from my companion. "He took his own life through his regrets."

_Regrets?_ It seemed amusing to me that anybody who could have attempted such a risky venture as spying on the home of two vampires would have any regrets. Of course, it was improbable that anyone knew the true beings that inhabited the unassuming structure at the edge of the forest. The deepest deduction outsiders could make was that it was Dr. Cullen and his nephew's residence.

Thus, my initial confusion had been quite slow to wane when the blonde man my son led home settled into the overstuffed chair near the cold hearth, clutching the hem of his coat close to his lean body as though he could feel the chill of sheer abhorrence smoldering in the eyes in Edward's impassive face. The young vampire had been silent for several minutes, sometimes quirking his brow, narrowing his eyes, or smiling in a terrifyingly sweet and sickly manner at the obviously despondent man before us.

Philip Masen had been likewise unable to speak. He cast his guilty gaze down anxiously to study his trembling hands and impressive leather gloves. When he did raise his head up, he seemed to avoid looking into Edward's face. I watched him closely, surprised by how he suddenly recoiled as though from a poisonous sting when he dared to glimpse the younger man. I turned to my son in silent inquiry and was greeted with defiantly set jaws.

I watched in further confusion as Edward turned to appraise Philip again, looking him over slowly before bestowing the visibly shaken mortal with another of his inhospitable smiles. He rose from his seat, asking in mock civility if he could interest the fine gentleman in a cup of tea. I frowned, turning to him for clarity about his motives, and again, was met with unfair silence.

Philip politely declined Edward's offer, turning pleading eyes to mine, and murmuring in his characteristic French accent, "_Pardonnez moi_, I beg of you, doctor, I am not who you think me to be."

I lifted both my brows in skepticism, unapologetic about the slight asperity in my tone when I retorted, "Do enlighten me then, how had my son come to find you loitering about our home?"

He hung his head, reaching to twist the elegant ruby on his finger catching the scant light in the living room with it, and throwing tiny blood red rays around where they turned. "I was only curious. My _tante_ seems to trust you well."

Of course, I doubted his reason, but I trusted Edward was listening to his mind and would reveal what ought to be known later. "Only because I gladly helped your cousin overcome his wounds," I replied, cautious not to reveal the exact details about our relationship.

Harry now lay in the hospital, under strict observation, from the state of his health. His fragile body continuously shook with spasms of pain, and he had yet to awaken even after three days. I looked his cousin over once more, remembering Harry's distress over Philip's deceit about his whereabouts when his brother died.

Intrigued, I asked, "Where were you when George died?"

It was then that it all happened. In a flash, a flurry of events seized me in fear. The first I saw of the approaching doom was the splintering wooden chair hitting the wall a few inches from my head. I had not missed it as it flew towards me, leaning to the side to avoid its impact with my face. What I had not caught was when Edward pushing back from the chair on which he had been sitting, standing up abruptly, and kicking it away to lean his head closer to that of the human sitting across from us.

Obviously angry, and undeniably perturbed, Edward had narrowed his eyes at our unwelcome guest, peering into his dazed face. Philip's heart beat erratically from fear, wide blue eyes darkening as they beheld the devastating gold of his unequal opposition. The human faltered, gaping in wonder, it seemed, at the fearsome beauty before him.

Suddenly, Edward threw his head back and laughed. His humorless chuckles held no humor, instead, he sounded dark and brooding. Before I could adequately decipher his attitude, he turned back to the trembling human, and leaned in, his slender form nearing his cousin, to search his face closely again.

I wondered, frowning at his behavior. He had never needed such close proximity to decipher another's thoughts. Again, before I could react, he let out a soft grunt and pulled back with pursed lips to appraise his mortal enemy's full form. I held still, my mind a jumble of fear and disbelief, only watching and praying that he would not yield to his still incontrollable thirst. _Will he go so far?_

I shot up from my seat then, recovering from my bewilderment in swift recognition of the calamitous possibilities. Barely aware of my haste, I also sent the wooden seat behind me careening far across the wide living room as I approached my enraged son. Reaching out to him was my aim, though if Edward really had intended to kill the fragile mortal, there would have been no moment between to stop him.

_Please son, _I called out to him in my mind, stretching out my hand and hoping a reassuring touch would calm him down a tad.

He whipped his head around immediately to look me intently in the face, his golden eyes blazing with hellish fury. I cowered momentarily at the depth of hate in his gaze, instantly regretting calling his attention to myself, but knowing I was the only one able to calm him in this situation. With my hand still outstretched and my palms turned up, I stepped tentatively towards him. His chest heaved visibly with the immense effort he seemed to exert on himself to curb his anger, and in the moment when he bared his teeth and growled, I truly feared.

"Edward," I murmured, quickly glimpsing the shaken human for any signs of strain. Twice in as few seconds, he must have watched two unassuming persons throw huge chairs through the air effortlessly. _He ought to be wondering,_ I thought. Yet the golden blonde man's fearful and wide eyes were trained only on the face before his, never having strayed, it seemed, to notice the commotion that had surrounded him. His face was ashen and his heart thudded quickly as he took in the burning ferocity in the young vampire's eyes.

"Please son," I whispered again, desperately imploring his understanding.

He wrenched from his stance suddenly, thankfully walking at human pace and opening the door as carefully without tearing it from its hinges. Moments later, we heard the loud crash of glass and steel, and cringed. Edward's anger was justified to an extent. His reaction though, was unacceptable. Still, I was grateful that he had not shown his extreme displeasure here.

I sighed, glancing back at the frightened human nervously wringing the brown fabric still clutched between his pale, shaking hands. He raised wide watery eyes to search my expressionless face, while I fought to keep my jaws locked together, fighting even harder now to keep my own anger well hidden. His very presence had brought dissension to my home, so that my own son now seemed enraged at me.

When all seemed to have calmed down for a moment, I asked, "Why?" passing my hand slowly over my face. "Why have you been spying on us, Philip?"

I sighed and looked away from the regretful man, feeling the strain for the first time since the night Jeremiah Jenks had delivered the letter to our home in Chicago. I felt utterly fatigued by this quest, wishing even, in that moment, that it had not been entrusted upon me. Several people had paid dearly with their lives for this gambit, and now, it seemed I had lost my son to its fray.

Merely three days ago, I had nursed that distressing feeling that I was being watched. In the exact moment I had glimpsed back at the pale face of the cataleptic young man before me, I felt the burn of a cold hard stare travel along my spine. It was the umpteenth time I had felt the uneasiness crawl over me, but as my earlier inspection yielded no definite results, I tried not to dwell on it any longer. Nevertheless, a pair of malevolent eyes was trained on me, I knew this, but I couldn't tell which it was in the crowded ward room of the hospital.

I looked up again, slowly; tensing for a moment as I quickly surveyed my surrounding for a suspicious looking individual and sighed. Fruitlessly finding nobody quite befitting of my imagined villain, I returned to my task, lifting the hem of the piece of cloth to cover Harry's extensive injuries and exposed back when I was done.

However, Philip swore he had not been at the hospital that day.

"Three days ago, _docteur,_ I was not even in Ashland," he explained. "_Mon __père_ and I have been searching for a box stolen from our family for several years now. Two days ago, we heard that a member of my family had found it here, in Ashland, so we came to collect the box."

I watched him skeptically, trying to decipher from his expression if he was being truthful or not

"Please sir, I am already afraid. Your son is like a phantom to me – that color, his hair – resembles one I have seen many times in my nightmares. I am not a saint, but I have tried to do well. I have failed, but I do not wish to lie anymore." He looked down and shook his head, sighing and murmuring softly, "If only _mon p__è__re_ would let me be free of this constricting conquest, maybe my life would be better."

"Your life will only be better when you make the effort to make it so," I replied, watching as different emotions flickered across his face. He bit his lips as he pondered my words. Finally, he reached for his overcoat and rose from his chair to leave.

The lifeless body of the troubled man had hung from a tree limb yesterday in testimony to a rash and lack-wit decision taken the night before. Philip Masen had obviously tired of his ways sometime during the night and taken his own life with a rope around his neck.

I sighed, turning away from my brooding boy for a brief moment to take in the breaking dawn. There seemed to be no possibility that he would join me for the small service I had arranged with the Rev. St. James to hold for his cousin. Sighing silently, I headed off to ready myself for the morning's ceremony.

Sometime later, with my head bowed in prayer near the icy grave of yet another Masen, a thin draft whistled by, carrying my son's familiar scent to me. I opened my eyes, subtly searching the overgrown cemetery quickly for a glimpse of the vampire, and spotting him standing in the shadowy depths of an old oak tree not too far from us. His dark overcoat aided to conceal him perfectly from human eyes.

The woods kept their secrets well, it seemed. Though living witnesses to the gore that had navigated their depths over the past days, they still cloaked those who wished to remain unseen. I nodded to my son, wondering how many more dark figures remained in the shadowy strongholds, and how many plotted evil.

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**Playlist**

Unfinished Memories – Eowyn (Silent Screams)

Goodbye – Eowyn (Silent Screams)

Already Over – Red (End of Silence)

Giving It Up! – Rhema Soul (Dope Beats Good News)

Confession – Red (Innocence and Instinct)

Awake and Alive – Skillet (Awake)

Hero – Skillet (Awake)

Supermassive Black Hole – Muse (Twilight OST)

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**Author's Note: **

Twilight fandom is giving back some of our love for the Saga that brought us together to support Alex's Lemonade **www(.)alexslemonade(.)org** to help fight childhood cancer. The Fandom Gives Back **www(.)thefandomgivesback(.)com** has already started holding an Author Auction to raise funds for this reason. With as little as $10, I'm offering to write a canon one-shot in Carlisle's point of view (I'll write you any reasonable scene you want from the Saga or any of my other stories in Carlisle's POV). So, come let's all join hands to help fight childhood cancer, and put a smile on a child's face today. The auction opened yesterday, and is running from now to November 20. Come, bid on me ;)

Thank you,

Edwina


	18. OVERTURE

_**I'm back!**_

Please forgive me for the brief pause, real life took over the reins for a while.

Massive love to _**findthewill**_, for squeezing me and my chaos into her tight schedule! Your Carlisle-like patience and massive doses of grace keep me really in wonder of you. You're the Awesomest BFF!

To _**Wanderer Forever**_, thanks for waiting patiently for this, and well… you'll soon see.

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**THE UNLIKELY HEIR:**

_**Carlisle**_

Piteous, is how Edward described the mortal man who sat visibly trembling in the back seat of the Ford automobile as I drove us all home.

Clean, shaven and healthier looking than the day we met each other at the bank of the river behind my home, Thomas Masen sat, his almost handsome features in seeming calm, pulling his borrowed coat even tighter around himself to ward off the cold night.

His bright steel-blue eyes danced about, peering ahead through the windshield at the darkened roads, occasionally looking around when I turned a corner or sped up. Perhaps he hoped to map his way to our final destination. More likely though, he looked for signs of his believed demise.

I smiled discreetly, watching the older looking man wring his gloves tightly and try to conceal a yawn or two. His steady breaths were drawn long and slow, betraying his fatigue from previous nights without rest. He tried to stay conspicuously alert, though, and reasonably ready to fight for his dear life.

However, losing the battle with sleep came mere moments after his first loud sigh. A sudden rush of blood to his face for his seemingly uncouth behavior caused us both to stiffen visibly. But, the unknowing man simply mumbled a quick apology, leaned back on the leather covered seat and allowed his head to fall back. With one last sigh, he let his eyes fall shut and sleep take over.

_How ridiculous!_ I thought, my half smile widening, hard pressed to desist from breaking out in fully disbelieving laughter. Partly confused by his utter comfort in the presence of vampires and a little fearful for his infantile confiding, I instinctively turned back to quickly look his sleeping form over again.

Satisfied he was in no other danger save from us, I turned to look my son over, too. Edward turned golden eyes to mine, smilingly haltingly – almost angelically. The young vampire raised a questioning brow, his smile growing to reveal a set of strong white teeth as though to prove he was not an angel.

_Certainly_, I agreed with a barely audible laugh, _not angelic at all._

Thomas Masen sighed again and began to snore softly, drawing my attention back to him for a moment. I shook my head slowly at the artless man's total ease as I drove on, marveling at his complete trusting. Of all the places to seek protection from death, this naïve man had chosen to walk right into the lion's den.

Edward laughed this time, presumably pleased with my silent analogy. Over the last half hour he had not spoken a word, possibly in thought about his human uncle's request. Save for Edward's quiet sighs and intermittent human gestures, he seemed like one of the Greek statues along the highways of Athens in his pensive and rigid stance.

_What is on your mind_? I queried.

"I wonder, Carlisle, what help you intend to offer this man," he replied. "Unless you plan to overlook your strict rules and_–_"

"No," I quickly interrupted, unwilling to have him continue his suggestion. There ought to be another way to protect Thomas and Harry without resorting to murder. "That is not a solution, son. There is always another way."

"Not this time," he insisted quietly, looking away through his window.

A light patter of rain had begun to stream down the glass surface. Outside, the changing colors of the night whisked by as I sped to our home on the outskirts of the town. I barely noticed the road, choosing to focus most of my mind on my son's words. _Not this time._

Surely, Edward did not mean our situation so dire that we were forced to kill a man to save another, did he? Earlier today, when Edward suddenly stopped our conversation and stilled, slowly looking up and frowning at Thomas's approach, I had not thought the older Masen's request of us would be this perplexing.

Standing near my car on the large field behind the healing establishment, the young vampire had not been at all amused when the oblivious man finally stuttered his fears and turned to appraise us with hopeful eyes.

The man's wide, innocent expression held no suspicion at all when he appraised us both while waiting for a reply. Perhaps, in the falling darkness, he had been unable to fully comprehend the subtle hints of our nature, or he simply ignored his instincts. Hoping for a positive response, he had smiled expectantly, eager to reinforce his perceived harmlessness, it seemed.

Finally succumbing, I had leaned forward and opened the car door for the distraught figure. I had no need to turn towards my son; I could feel his hard stare at my nape. With narrowed eyes, he silently questioned the validity of my decision. I sighed softly, walking to the other end of the vehicle to climb in and head home. Edward ought to understand; I could not let any harm come to the mortal man.

His sharp laughter at my imploring had been terrifying. Even to me, the curt sound seemed frightening. But I had already resolved to keep Thomas Masen from harm's way. So, determinedly, I turned pursed lips and a tight smile to him, looking directly in his eyes as I thought, _You may run back home if this makes you uncomfortable._

He sighed with resignation after a brief moment, climbing in the front passenger seat and turning to look ahead. Nodding once when I inquired about his endurance, we had set off in complete silence with each man thinking how this whole episode had come about, perhaps.

Of course, my mind reading son had explained the thoughts he had read from Benjamin Masen's mind a few hours earlier. Although surprised by his chance discovery of the other Masen brother, I had been even more stunned by the thoughts Edward had relayed from the man's mind.

Cold and chilling, the extent of human cruelty he had expounded from Benjamin's thoughts caused me to further evaluate my son's decisiveness with the words, _Not this time._

Edward had described Benjamin Masen's mind as calculating and set on a single purpose, filled with embittered thoughts, desperation and vengefulness.

"Almost as if he were hunting," the young vampire had likened.

Evidently, Benjamin Masen was on a hunt – a man hunt. Hiding in the forest around the hospital, where Edward had found him today, he had carefully plotted several times in the past to take his revenge on Harry for his failure to acquire Anthony Masen's letters, and consequently, the accompanying key.

I sighed softly, remembering the distressing feeling that I was being watched at the hospital, every day for nearly a fortnight now. That my son had confirmed my suspicions in our chat at the hospital parking lot, moments before Thomas's interruption, citing another human as culprit of my instinctive awareness, was even more disconcerting.

_How long had Benjamin Masen been watching me?_ I thought.

For many days, it had been quite aggravating attending my usual rounds with the dreadful sense that someone watched all my engagements clandestinely. Even more frightening was that whosoever kept watch might notice my inhuman traits, thus forcing me to eat and pretend to fall asleep regularly.

I had first noticed it two nights after Rhinehart Hospital, where I work, had received new patients from Stoughton Surgical Hospital as they completed minor renovations in their Intensive-Care Unit.

With most of the new patients being in critical condition, I wondered ceaselessly, who could have taken such special interest in me. Nurse Regina, with whom I was usually on call, nearing sixty and who habitually called me "son" since my first week of arrival seldom paid me any mind.

Nor had the additional nurse assigned to help during the month Stoughton required to finish their work shown that much interest in me. Unknown to the perpetually tired young woman, the reason she kept falling asleep in odd places and at odd times was that her condition was quite delicate. Regardless, she seemed to avoid me whenever she could, afraid to be summoned for work when she so much needed to sleep.

Even the hospital's orderlies were changed daily, as most were volunteers from the Lutheran church sparing a couple of hours every night to come clean the premises. Yet I had felt the prickling stare down my back every single night.

Slowly, my previously customary duties at the hospital had turned quite unbearable. While it had once been easy to listen to a patient's heart without using the stethoscope, now I rigidly observed all human limitations and abided closely to the tiniest detail of each one.

Once, I even found myself pretending to be in dire need of the hospital's revolting facilities when it seemed the food from the hospital's canteen, which I had painfully forced down my throat, did not agree with most. Sitting uselessly in the corridor after, trying to prove my humanness by imitating Nurse Regina's earlier pants and forlorn look, had irritated me the most. That time could have been better spent closely monitoring Mary Jean's mysterious fever.

It had taken a while to convince myself that there was no such thing as vampire paranoia when I constantly searched for the root of my instinct, but found nothing.

Exacting all my senses to the task of finding the individual who covertly monitored me had still not yielded any results, when Harry finally surfaced from his unconsciousness. Worse, maybe, was that the pair of eyes had seemed to be trained even more intently on me since Harry came to. I knew that whoever was watching might even be following me around the hospital. In the full wards though, I couldn't tell who it was.

Understanding dawning now, I realized why I had thought it was death watching, always perching by the ceiling, ready to snatch souls yearning for release. It also seemed to beckon those for whom it meant to give respite. Harry's pain had been immense, throwing the young man in and out of consciousness, and sometimes to the brink of fatality.

Following Philip's demise, it had seemed the grim reaper visited twice within the first week alone, seeking to lay his icy touch on the determined young man sprawled crookedly in the hospital cot. Fruitlessly, he had failed to take young Harry's presence from us, as in every attempt he had made I had been close by to avert his intentions.

Knowing even better now, I marveled at the extent to which some sought their own satisfaction. Employing all their wiles, they persisted and continuously pressed upon a destructive course to gain what they thought theirs even at the expense of another life.

Benjamin Masen had unleashed a string of evil over his own family, causing his sons their untimely deaths with his cunning and ruthless ways. That a son had been so fearful of his father, resigning himself to the knowledge that the end had come upon him at the mere sight of a letter, brought a deep frown over my face.

How horribly apt then, that even his youngest son, and perhaps his longest cohort thought it wise to end his life by his own hands. Philip's fears, then not very understandable, had begun to make perfect sense now.

So evil were Benjamin Masen's plans that once, during my shift at the hospital, when I must have missed him by mere moments in one of his attempts on Harry's life, I had found Harry in violent spasms and hallucinations, only calming when his breath had fully returned to him and he had looked up to see I stood beside his bed.

Gently, I had pushed the dark tendrils covering the young man's face, urging his hair out of his eyes, and grimacing slightly at the memory of my son's unflinching assertions the night before.

Again, we had argued about angels and demons that dawn, straying regularly from the crux that had informed our disputing views from the beginning. Edward had been quick to label Harry a saint, and the man at the river a demon.

How that argument had come about still seemed confusing. I had merely sought to make plans for his help in deciphering Thomas's mind, proposing a plan that placed Edward far enough from the hospital without sending him out of range of the then 'mysterious' man's thoughts.

Soon finding the man from the river incapable of causing any havoc, Edward seemed to have developed some sympathy, though no particular affection for him.

Therefore, I was quite stunned when he chose to join us in the study on arrival at our home. However, remembering the young vampire's curiosity, from his account about his afternoon adventures, I thought he needed further explanation for his discovery in the woods around the hospital.

Benjamin Masen seemed to have affected the young vampire substantially. During the week after the second of his cousins died, he had seldom found a moment's peace of mind from his constant thoughts about the ever evolving turns his late mother's charge had taken. Attempting to escape his own pondering, his runs to the waterfall had become more and more frequent.

His distress seemed to have risen exponentially in the last few hours, after his discovery of his other human kin. I sympathized with him greatly, understanding how chaotic it must be for the teenager who previously had no idea he even had a family. That there were such callous beings amongst them must have been even more distressing.

Only beginning to accept the stunning knowledge that the weak man I had carried to the hospital was a supposed enemy, finding the other Masen on the verge of committing another felony further ruined the young vampire's already fragile state of mind. In his description of his encounter with his other uncle I had also learned how hard it had been for him to resist the temptation to kill again.

Facing what he might have thought was a true demon, it must have been exceptionally hard for him not to round up Benjamin Masen and his accompanying thugs for his idea of punishment.

I had placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him, "You did the right thing, son."

He had merely nodded, seemingly unconvinced about his decision or my judgment of the situation. Yet, I still thought it had been a good day when he had been able to rein in his rage and resist hunting a human – any human, even one for whom he thought there was no hope but death.

There had been too many deaths already. In this bizarre caper on which we had embarked, it seemed every successful step had come at the price of a human life. Considering the path leading to the helm of this undertaking, it seemed a great feat whenever we could get ahead without further loss of life.

Thus, it was not merely the shocking confession wrought from the impeccable looking fellow before us that had me awed. Staring into the seemingly benign eyes, slightly cast down in apparent regret, I wondered how such a gently bred person could have committed the atrocious sins he had cataloged mere moments ago.

Beside me, my son sat still in his own consideration of his uncle. With narrowed eyes trained upon the smaller man, Edward pressed his lips tightly together, frowning slightly as he read Thomas Masen's mind. Perchance, he only studied him closely, reminded of his deceased father in the distinctly familiar features of his relative.

The mortal man had seemed even more nervous then, licking his lips and raising his head to look up at me when he had finished his tale. I had tried to smile at him in encouragement, ending with a slight nod as I considered my own emotions for the distraught man. More overwhelmed with pity for this man who had confessed to playing a role in George's eventual death, than with disgust, as was apparent in Edward's face, I had spoken a word of understanding to reassure him.

"Perhaps you were not of sound mind when your brother spoke these plans to you?" I inquired.

"Yes, doctor. Benjamin has been known to be more determined than most. But I swear it, when he started plotting to kill Harry, needing to find my father's silver box, I eagerly sought to withdraw my involvement."

I nodded, turning slightly to look at my silent son. His eyes were narrowed again in concentration, but there were no signs that he did not believe the man's words. Still, when he raised his head, his ice-cold stare pierced with more questions, and his face was hard and emotionless.

Had I not encountered him in his weakness, perhaps I might also have been wont to feel a less kindly emotion for the browbeaten man. However, I found no reason to think cruelly, or stay unforgiving of a person who had readily confessed his sins. After all, every man had past regrets, actions for which he was remorseful.

Thomas sighed, I sighed, and then Edward sighed as well. I had turned sharply to consider the unexpected action from my son, trying for a small smile in acknowledgement of the collective human gesture we had all expressed – immortal beings even. Had we all come to a general conclusion, evaluating the depth of our current dangers and reaching a consensus?

"It seems so, Carlisle," the young vampire had murmured, lifting out of his seat and walking to stand beside the mantle. Against the white washed walls in the study, his hair stood in stark relief to his person and surroundings. His darkened bronze mane gleaming in the glow of the oil lantern set upon the mantle in the study.

The human's hitched breath had been barely audible, somewhat stunning him then, it seemed, when two pairs of gold eyes turned to regard his fidgeting actions. His breathing sped; a thin sheen of sweat broke over his forehead as he stared hypnotically into the teenager's face. Edward sighed silently, nodded to me once and walked away.

"Elizabeth had a son!" Thomas declared, "Just like him," he pointed to the door, signaling Edward's retreating form.

"Yes," I agreed silently, fairly perplexed by the human's sudden outburst, resulting in the vampire's hasty disappearance.

"I…" he breathed, looking closely at my face. As though truly seeing for the first time, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped further. At the sound of his racing heart, I knew.

_We've been found out._

* * *

**Playlist**

Heartstrings Come Undone – Demon Hunter

San Angelo – Third Day

Screams of the Undead – Demon Hunter

Fade – Demon Hunter

I've Always Loved You – Third Day

Broken From the Start – Jon Foreman

Crash – Decyfer Down

Cornerstone – Day of Fire

One Day too Late – Skillet

Dead Inside – Skillet

The Word is Alive – Casting Crowns

Sweetly Broken – Jeremy Riddle

Flora's Secret – Enya

Open My Heart – Flame

Over the River – Jonathan Foreman

Resurrect Me – Jonathan Foreman

Only a Man – Jonny Lang

Imagine Me – Kirk Franklin

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_**AN:**_ It feels wonderful to be back! I'm so excited, especially posting this on my first anniversary as a fan fic author and also exactly a year after The Unlikely Heir was posted. I would like to use this opportunity to express my sincerest gratitude to you, my readers. You are the pillar on which I lean, and my best life experience so far. Thank you for your patience, dedication and loyalty. A Carlisle (or Edward) to you all!

*muah*


	19. CAPTURE

**Gratias tibi ago, findthewill**

* * *

**THE UNLIKELY HEIR 19: CAPTURE**

_**Carlisle **_

Trapped!

And in every imaginable way; there was no escape in sight.

In the thicket, about a mile away from the inn where Thomas now lived, a small semicircle of stunned humans looked back and forth, between Edward and me.

They each held still, hardly making a sound as their racing hearts slowly regained their usual thrum. Quiet and fearful, none dared to step out of their formation lest they provoke a less than pleasant reaction from either or both of us. So, we all stood still and waited in pensive strain, regarding one another with great suspicion.

My son stood at my side with an outward calm, looking almost nonchalant. His face gave nothing of his thoughts about the situation away, but I could see his anger still blaze wildly in the golden depths of his eyes.

Occasionally, when his gaze strayed to his uncle on the far side of the darkening coppice in which we stood, his expression changed. He did not bother to hide his disdain for Benjamin as his eyes narrowing dangerously every time they came upon his kin.

Once, I almost flinched at the depth of sheer abhorrence he harbored for the mere human man. His smoldering gaze seemed to burn holes into the unsuspecting man's mind. Sometimes he frowned and turned to look back at me, as if calculating any chances he might have of finishing this ordeal off without my opposition or interference.

Truthfully, even I was enraged by it all! Benjamin Masen had endangered our secret several times already, stalking and plotting his evil deeds while innocent men lost their lives. His own sons now lay at the bottom of their graves, dead from his wicked machinations.

Any pity I had previously felt for the man quickly faded now. In its place, I felt an overwhelming annoyance at the need to fabricate a plausible story to save his life. After all, his continual greed had brought us into this confrontation. Had he not shot me, we would not have found ourselves in this suffocating dilemma.

Quickly glancing around, I wondered if it was the right decision to stay and try to salvage our image once again. Considering how sorely I had underestimated the human's intelligence, I thought through all the options I had fleetingly entertained at the beginning of our crisis.

We could run from it all.

Physically, there was enough space available through which we could both run and disappear from this dilemma. With our speed and strength, there was hardly a barrier that could hold us captive in any given setting. It was not necessary to stay at all. Yet, it was only prudent to try to salvage our claim to humanity, saving our secret, the survival of our family and the humans' lives. I sighed silently and quit searching the grounds for an easy exit.

Though, I feared, there was also a large likelihood this encounter would end in bloodshed as Edward had predicted. Knowing it was not an alternative I wanted to resort to, I desperately sought a way to convince Benjamin and save my fledgling vampire son from witnessing the coming gore. Unless he was safely away from the scene, I assumed killing his kin in his sight would weigh greatly on my conscience for a long time to come.

The young man turned to look at me sharply, disbelieving of my thoughts and seemingly questioning my sanity. However, he settled into his previously misleading and aloof calm with the same alacrity, outwardly looking unperturbed by the gruesome possibility that had played in my mind a few moments ago.

With his head up, eyes looking away into nothingness and a slight but cynic smile ghosting lightly around his lips, he seemed determined to defy me if I ever requested he leave me to attend to ensuring the survival of our secret.

As I could not argue the matter immediately, I merely sighed and rigidly, but very reluctantly turned my gaze to the mortal who unwittingly measured us with his own contempt. His lips trembled with fear, but pride held his head up when he parted them to speak, glancing first into the feral fire in Edward's eyes and then slowly to mine. His face had turned a deathly pale as he obviously searched for answers to his disbelief.

I held still and waited, willing the human not to voice his confusion. My loud sigh went unnoticed when he confidently whispered his inquiry out, "What manner of evil are you?"

I nearly dipped my head in frustration, pursing my lips to keep from frightening the shaking man with a loud scream of impatience. His staunch position, persistently insisting that we were not what we claimed to be, was not helping either party in any way. In fact, it simply kept drawing him closer to his untimely grave and to crippling guilt on our side.

Even though unknown to him, I was incessantly concerned for his life, his family and the lives of those he had drawn into seeking a treasure still unknown to either of us. Even more exasperating was the possibility that his brother and nephew had already lost their lives while we stayed here and wrangled.

Yet, he continuously refused to believe the story I had hastily but carefully concocted to explain the seeming impossibility he had just witnessed. He shook his head vigorously and pressed his lips in momentary thought after I repeated my side of the event for the third time in half an hour. Sighing, he quickly voiced his conviction that I was wrong again.

"It cannot be, Sir. I fired twice, and none of my load from last night remains in the gun. Besides, had I drawn an empty firearm at you, it would merely have made a click to indicate I lacked a shot."

"Sir," I tried again, "I assure you that your piece has a faulty aim. You could not have killed me with it."

He seemed to consider my explanation while I prayed fervently that he did not counter my sorry lies with remarks from his astute scrutiny. But then, he turned to me with more gathered confidence and a reply that left me thoroughly regretful.

"Yet, you fell and remained motionless for minutes. Had your son not come to the scene, I believe you would have been quite content to continue lying face down in the dirt, pretending to be wounded."

"Mayhap you are not even human," he continued slowly, daring to pace forward a little as he made his declaration. "Like your son, you have pale skin and strange eyes. You could be evil creatures preying on human lives with magic. Perhaps, you are… vampires?"

While I fought to conceal my surprise at the feeble man's audacity, Edward suddenly chuckled as if in mocking contrast to his uncle's accurate assertion. I could not understand what had caused him to view this chaotic encounter as amusing, but I held my curiosity in. There were much better times for inquiries into his behavior when this incident was over and we were on our way out of Ashland.

As it turned out now, there truly appeared no other way out of our plight, or to save the man I had eagerly awoken from the dead to protect. Benjamin Masen was much too perceptive for his own good, or had grown up believing in fables that had placed him on the brink of death. Had no one thought to save him by relaying that there were no such creatures in actuality?

How possible it was for me to calmly consider solutions for the difficulties that had arisen from this situation distressed me deeply. However, the prime unsuspecting victim in this predicament looked calmly on as if he had no fear, arrogantly trying to hide his racing heart and sweaty body beneath his polite façade and false aura of confidence.

However, it was for his sake that I had compromised our secret in the first place, bringing us all to this end.

Lying on the dirt ground as I fully assessed the situation that had thrown me into unconsciousness, it had been hard for me to ignore the subtle leap my son made from a tree a few meters away in the dense forest.

In a blur of activity, I had quickly risen from the ground and raced towards the unknowing mortal to protect him from the intent I had seen in Edward's eyes.

The younger vampire had growled as he approached the scene, his eyes wild and face scrunched in annoyance. Utterly confused and slightly fearful that he would attack me for his 'kill', I was quite prepared, though not convinced I would win, to employ my more experienced knowledge in warfare to dissuade him in whatever way seemed necessary.

"Father, you frighten Mr. Masen," he said after a moment and nodded at the mortal in front of whom I stood, protecting him from the displeased vampire's wrath.

Edward's scornful laughter rang through my mind as I turned to take in the disbelieving faces behind me. Their pallor ran closely in shade to our skin. Benjamin had let the pistol fall from his hand to the ground, and all had wide eyes and dropped jaws.

_Have I worsened the situation? _

It was clear I had, indeed, further complicated our tentative status. However, I was also unable to turn away from the frightened louts, to ask my son's direction on this issue. Assessing the health of my victims in their shock was my greatest priority now. After all, I had caused their woes.

"Sir, you should be dead," Benjamin had murmured, recovering from his dazed stupor.

Of course, I should be dead, I knew this well. I had pretended the state long enough to convince them all that I had expired from Mr. Masen's shots.

Though unexpected, I had not been overly surprised when the shots rung and I woke from my momentary oblivion with my face to the ground. I had felt the stunning effect of the first bullet when it hit, but only noted the second piercing of my skin torpidly.

In the middle of nowhere, parked many miles from the inn, safely far from where Thomas was lodging, and knowing Edward had been left to watch him, I was convinced no one had heard the commotion. I thought to lay there for a few more minutes, rising and leaving after I had heard the excited heartbeats of the men eventually fade away.

When I glimpsed the sliver of dull gold in Edward's bronze hair under the fading sunlight, I merely reacted to the grim possibility that he intended to kill Benjamin Masen and his cohorts. Convinced that a simple explanation to Mr. Masen would suffice, I had not carefully thought through the events leading to my supposed demise when I had spoken my explanation for my continued existence.

I had no wounds to show that I had been hit by his firearm, and thought to explain how faulty his aim had been. Obviously, Benjamin did not appreciate his intellect being undermined. He held fast and argued every point out as it arose. Now, his quick mentality and astute observation were rapidly leading him to death.

To complicate matters, Benjamin looked first from Edward to me and grinned. Like Edward, I very nearly laughed out loud at his following suggestion.

"Of course, we can reach an agreement of sorts if you are willing to comply." At my raised brow, his voice dipped into a conspiratorial murmur, "We'll swear to keep your secret from the town's parochial priest if you can reveal Thomas's location."

Edward's chest shook again with unconcealed laughter. "The parochial priest, indeed!" he laughed.

"Y…yes, the parochial priest," Benjamin insisted, faltering a moment.

I bit back a smile with great difficulty as I looked over the poor man with fresh pity. _Might the Parochial priest of Ashland be the Reverend St. James,_ I wondered, o_ne not even capable of reciting a simple Latin prayer? _

Obviously, Uncle Benjamin had no definite idea what to make of us. His only argument was that we practiced dark arts – magic, and brought sorrow to the inhabitants of the town. Maybe, realizing himself incapable, he thought he could better eliminate us through the spirits. Again, I almost laughed at how similar, though also very diverse, he was to his brother.

Thomas had also confided his belief that we were a manifestation of spiritual beings. He, on the other hand had expressed an opposing idea to our strangeness. Swearing God had sent Edward's spirit in heaven back with God's favorite Archangel to resolve the matter on earth had been the most absurd notion I had heard so far. Yet, the wonder-filled man had been utterly convinced, refuting any other explanation for his discovery.

"Please, I tried to dissuade my brother from killing young Scott," he had confessed that night. "I was afraid and could only save Harry by hiding him in the woods. I could not keep him with me because I was weak, and if Benjamin had found us together he would have killed us both," he had rushed on, trying to explain the events that had led him to the brook the day I had found him – apparently, seeking forgiveness of his sins as well.

Edward had been utterly amazed by Thomas's conviction – maybe, even more than I had. His sighs, after we had settled Thomas into his new home and stood watch on the fringes of darkness behind the inn, had seemed an indication that he had begun to think through his own entrenched ideas about our kind.

He had dismissed my thoughts quickly, stating his conviction that only the devil could claim bloodthirsty souls. My hope that he would consider the truth of his goodness after Thomas's equation of him to an angel from heaven, come to avenge the grave misdeeds in his family, seemed to evaporate as he left me on my own and sped back to our own home.

From then on, we had taken turns to watch both Harry and Thomas. While he hunted, usually during the day, I watched Thomas. My assurance of Harry's safety was that Benjamin had never struck until the night hours in the past. In turn, Edward watched over Thomas while I hunted or reported for work at the hospital.

It had been that way for nearly a fortnight until Benjamin shot me twice in the back as I hurried to work.

I sighed again, pulling myself out of my momentary reverie to rejoin the current discussion. Ah yes, Benjamin was determined to set the Parochial priest's power against our "dark" forces.

"The Reverend would gladly exorcise this good town of such evil as you," he threatened in an even louder voice, but I hardly listened. A few seconds ago, I had turned towards the direction of Thomas's growing scent and wondered what had brought him so close to this dangerous rendezvous. Even more regretful would be including the good-hearted man in any eventuality that might befall the mortal men here.

I narrowed my eyes as his trembling frame drew near, watching in awe as the older and more frightened of the Masen brothers stepped into the grove to defend us.

"The only evil here is you, Benjamin. These men are angels."

* * *

**Playlist**

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* * *

**

Who He Is - Trip Lee (20/20)

Turn Around - Jonny Lang (Turn Around)

The Godhead - Flame (Rewind)

Mercy Refused - Alvin Slaughter

**Reviews are much appreciated**


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